


Everything in Existence

by gettingthisbread



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Meet-Cute, Nora and Henry are alive, bisexual!Linda, bisexual!wally, did someone say hopeless romantic and commitment-phobe relationship??, don't mind me with my WA rom com, i love these idiots, rom com, slow burn kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-08 05:41:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 74,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18888301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gettingthisbread/pseuds/gettingthisbread
Summary: Iris is a journalist who's stuck working at an online gossip rag. Barry is a bartender with his head in the clouds. Throw in a meet-cute, some commitment issues, and some pushy best friends and we have ourselves a good old fashioned rom-com!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this after Netflix's great summer of rom-coms (especially Set it Up) because I've always felt WA deserves that too. I added a couple non-cannon minorish characters because the story I wanted to tell needed it (it's chill, I swear) and for the purposes of this story I imagined Central City to be a lot like New York. Iris and Wally grew up together, Nora and Henry are alive and well, blah blah blah, you'll see the rest. AND I was big time inspired by iriswesttt's physical description of Barry in In Other Words... (https://archiveofourown.org/works/7510282/chapters/17072518) it's wonderful and you should definitely read it.

“…so, I guess, what I’m trying to say is it’s not you, it’s me. And I know people say this all the time, but, I really hope we can stay friends.”

“Are you serious, Iris?”

Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t have done this while they were lying in bed together after another night of sub-par sex. But Iris West couldn’t take it anymore: every second of their “relationship” felt like a knife scraping a dinner plate. At the time, she thought it made sense to finally agree to be exclusive with Scott after a month of casual post-work hookups. Their relationship made sense on paper. They were the two hot, young, Black reporters in the office. He was good looking, smart, nice, and he was almost as good at his job as she was at hers. It was logical. But the longer they stayed together, the clearer her image of Scott became. What she initially thought was kindness turned out to be charm; she could see it in the way he would suck up to their editors or all of his patronizing interactions with the new hires. On more than one occasion she caught him checking himself out in the mirror; looking back on it Scott never looked at her with the same appreciation. And she could’ve set all of that aside, she really could’ve, if he hadn’t fucked with her at work. He took her idea for a new feature to their misogynistic, asshole of a boss. Scott got his ticket to the office's inner circle and left Iris behind writing listicles with 21-year-old interns fresh out of undergrad.

He was staring at her expectantly, apparently waiting for an answer.

“Yeah I am, Scott,” she said. “This isn’t working for me anymore.”

“Wow” he scoffed, offended. He started getting out of bed and redressing, angrily pulling on his raw denim jeans.

“You know everyone at the office always said you were kind of a bitch but I saw past that.”  
“Excuse me?” Iris asked, her eyebrows shooting up in shock. Any semblance of Scott’s nice guy act evaporated as soon as his feet hit the floor. She sat up in her bed, watching as he collected the few belongings he had in her apartment, stuffing them into his monogrammed leather overnight bag. Even though they’d been together for nearly half a year Scott never left more than a stick of deodorant or an extra pair of socks at her place. Truthfully, Iris never wanted him to.

“Wasted all my time giving you this ‘exclusive’ shit,” he muttered to himself as he took his watch from the nightstand. “You’re not the only hot girl who wanted me, you know. I had so many opportunities, sweetheart. Okay? I could’ve been sleeping with white women.”  
Who even says that?   
“Get the fuck out of my apartment, Scott!” Iris yelled as he flung open her bedroom door. She got up to follow him through the living room, “and you know what? I take it back! I DON’T want to stay friends!” And with that she slammed the door.

“Morning sunshine.”  
“Fuck!” Iris grabbed her chest. She hadn’t noticed her roommate, Linda, sitting in the kitchen while she was chasing Scott out.

“So I take it you finally gave Scott ‘the talk’?” Linda asked over her morning paper.

The two girls had met Linda’s first night living in the city, through a mutual friend who invited a group of them out to a bar with fifty cent jello shots. Iris left early without saying goodbye, feeling a blackout coming on. At 4 a.m. a wasted Linda was pounding on her door, saying “I wanted to make sure you made it home” before pushing past her, into her shoebox of an apartment, throwing up blue into her toilet, and passing out on her bed. They’d been best friends ever since.

“Mmmhhhh,” Iris moaned in the affirmative as she flopped face first on to their old couch.  
“Sorry, honey. At least you don’t have to deal with that dickhead anymore. You know I never liked him.” For as long as they’d known each other, it felt as though Linda was constantly saying I told you so. It occasionally ignited standoffs that never lasted more than a couple days, and more often than not got resolved with apology tequila and kitchen karaoke.

Iris peeled herself off the couch and straightened out her disheveled hair.

“You’re right. He’s a dick. And I’m glad to be done with him.” She sat for a second, mulling it over before forcefully flopping back down. “But now I have to see him at work on Mondayyyyy. Lindaaaaa. What am I gonna do?”  
“Hon,” Linda said, sitting on the couch. Iris went boneless, half her body slid to the floor. “Iris, listen to me” Linda grabbed her by the shoulders, “you’re gonna go into your room. You’re gonna clean yourself up and get dressed.” Iris leaned into her friend, starting to feel comforted as Linda smoothed down her hair. “And then you and I are gonna go to trap-yoga.”  
“What?!” Iris pulled away to look at the traitor. “Exercise is not what I need right now, Lin! My heart is broken! I need to wallow and eat junk food and _stay on the couch_.” She shot puppy dog eyes at her friend.   
“No bitch. You didn’t even like Scott!” Linda exclaimed. Iris cringed at that, but she knew that Linda was right. Screaming at him now was the most emotion she ever felt in that relationship. Go figure.  
“Iris, you need to get up and move. You wasted five and a half months on that jerk for what? Some mediocre sex?”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad” Iris said.   
“Girl. I share a wall with you. All I ever heard was Scott grunting and hyping himself up.”  
“Dude!”

“What was the longest it ever lasted? Five minutes?”

“I–” Iris started but shut her mouth, having to agree with Linda, and no longer feeling the need to defend Scott.

“That’s what I thought. So go get your little yoga pants on, we’re leaving in 20.”

——

Two hours later, Iris was splayed out on the floor of a dance studio in Midtown, trying to catch her breath while the rest of the class went on with their Saturdays. She tries to make it to the gym a couple times a week (if she were being honest with herself it was more like a couple times a month) but that was just absurd. She could barely touch her toes on a good day, how could she be expected to add dancing to that? At least the music was good.

“What…the…fuck” Iris panted to Linda as she came to sit beside her with two bottles of water and a towel. Linda, of course, had barely broken a sweat so the towel was for Iris.

“A couple times there Mari and I thought you were gonna throw up,” she replied, pulling Iris up into a sitting position.

Their mutual friend, Mariana taught the class. Mari (as her friends called her) wasa curvy woman with a blonde afro. Part time trainer, part time back up dancer, she had aspirations of becoming the next Rosie Perez. Linda met her a while back taking one of her other dance/exercise classes and decided the three of them had to be friends. The decision was cemented the first time the trio went out and all ended up dancing on tables and laughing until they couldn’t breathe.

Mari finished talking to one of her clients (a middle aged white woman in a coordinated Lululemon outfit) with a fake smile that immediately dropped as she came to sit with the girls.

“Ay díos, this woman always wanting to talk to me about some new diet and her son’s gluten intolerance. Christ!” she sat with a huff. “Lin, you looked great. Iris…at least you didn’t throw up.” She flashed a sympathetic smile.

“Okay,” Linda said redirecting the conversation, “phase one of _Mission: Iris Reclaims Her Time_ in which she sweats out her anger and does her annual workout—”

“Hey!”

“—complete. On to phase two: we’re all going out tonight.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that guys.” It was only 2pm and Iris was already sweaty and exhausted, she was pretty much done for the day.

“Iris, mama, we’re taking you out!” Mari interrupted, in an aggressively friendly tone. “And not to one of our usual places, we’re getting on the train and we are going downtown–”

Iris let out a groan.

“ –and you have absolutely no say in the matter” Linda finished.

“But—” Iris tried.

“Dude, you need to go celebrate your freedom! It’s been half a year! Haven’t you already wasted enough of your time doing nothing?” Linda and Mari watched as she contemplated their words.

If it were anyone else Iris would have told them to fuck off and leave her alone, but these were her girls; she trusted their judgment the majority of the time. Besides she knew from experience that they wouldn’t take no for an answer.  
“Okay fine.” She gave in. “But you two are buying my drinks all night.”

“Yes!” Linda rejoiced, “This is going to be the best night ever!”

——

“This is the worst night ever” Linda sighed.

Linda and Iris met up with Mari at some swanky club on the Lower East Side after a pregame at their apartment. Apparently, Mari met a couple guys in line who gave her a few pulls from their flask. When they finally managed to get to the front she was a shade past too drunk, falling off her ridiculously tall heels she exclusively wore for clubbing. Iris and Linda loved the girl, but this wasn’t the first time (and it certainly wouldn’t be the last) that they would have to play party mom. They’d hold it against her but every time it happened she was genuinely remorseful — besides she did her fair share of emotionally/physically/spiritually-responsible friend duties so no one was in debt to anyone as far as they could see. They consoled Mari, assuring her that she hadn’t ruined the night, and put her in a cab across the bridge back to her roommate who, by this point, knew the drill.

It started to rain by the time they successfully got her in the car and tipped the driver extra to make sure she got home safely. Rather than waiting in line for another hour, the two decided to leave. They walked around the unfamiliar neighborhood, searching the block for someplace dry to figure out plan b. They happened upon a grimy, all-night pizza place first and made a break for it.Each ordered a slice — pepperoni for Iris, plain cheese for Linda — and they claimed a table by the window away from the groups of loud, underage college kids, completely soaked from the rain and obviously wasted on cheap liquor.

“Really, Lin, it’s fine. You guys still got me out of the house for the night” Iris tried to assure her friend that the outing wasn’t a total flop.

“No, it’s not fine. Look at us! We look hot! I’m not letting this go to waste.” An idea dawned on her face making Iris nervous. She abandoned her slice on its paper plate and reached into her bag. “Here.” Linda pulled two lollipops from her clutch. She offered one to Iris. “Lauren gave these to me last week. Welcome to phase 3 of _Mission: Iris Reclaims Her Time_ , baby.”

Now, Linda and Iris weren’t stoners by any stretch of the imagination. But they were two young women living in a big city, paying rent that was way too high, working stressful jobs that paid them way too little, and taking anxiety inducing public transit every goddamn day. Once in a while booze just didn’t cut it.

“Weirdo, stoner Lauren who lives down the hall?” Iris asked, somewhat shocked though not entirely surprised. Lauren was an aloof, surfer-looking girl who lived in their building and who, against all logic, Linda had a huge crush on. Iris imagined that Lauren got lost on the way to the beach one day and wandered around until she somehow found herself living in the city, miles from the ocean and selling drugs out of a loft that her parents paid for. She had long, wavy hair the color of sand, and always greeted Iris with a zen smile.

“Yup,” Linda responded nonchalantly.

Iris took a lollipop from her “And _why_ were you with weirdo stoner Lauren who lives down the hall?”

“Oh…you know…” Linda squirmed on the receiving end of Iris’ growing smirk and finally gave up trying to think up some half-assed excuse. “Just shut up and eat it.”

They unwrapped their edibles and held them in a toast.  
“Cheers,” Linda began, “to my best friend who finally vagged up…” Iris cringed as Linda only got louder. “…who finally VAGGED up, dumped that loser Scott and got her life back. In Beyoncé’s name we pray, Amen.”

“Amen,” Iris agreed. “How long until these kick in anyway?”  
“A couple of hours I think.” The college kids were getting rowdier. They were like drunk toddlers – screaming, laughing, falling down and blurting out the most random things. Iris watched them, jealous of the hangover free mornings they would have the next day, and suddenly felt too old to stay any longer.   
“Hey, why don’t we check out that bar across the street? I’ve seen three groups of hot guys go in since we got here.”  
“I like where your head’s at, West! Let’s go.” Linda grabbed Iris’ hand, forgetting their half-eaten slices, and pulled her across the street, nearly getting them killed by an oncoming cab.

——

Linda was off with a tall finance bro with a cute butt and Iris was figuring out a way to get out of a dry conversation with some guy about the app he developed. Every time she tried to interrupt him, he cut her off with a new question that he would just answer for himself.

“Well, this has been really gre– ”, Iris tried. Again.

“What’s your favorite TV show? Mine’s definitely _Narcos_ , I just think the story structure is so sophisticated, you know? It really transcends language, I think, you know? I just feel like…”

Iris zoned out. She started looking around the bar for Linda to shoot her the _please come pretend to be my overprotective girlfriend so we can go home_ look, but she couldn’t find her in the crowd of twenty somethings. As she looked around she took in the atmosphere of the place. She noticed how the bar was decorated like a library with beat-up leather arm chairs scattered around, an illuminated globe sitting on the floor by the bathrooms, and a bookshelf on the wall behind the counter — half-filled with drinks, half-filled with actual books. The place was crowed, but no more so than any other Lower East Side bar on a Saturday night.

She started to turn her attention back to app boy, _Tom? Or maybe he said Todd?_ Iris had no idea what he was talking about at this point. She was about to try, yet again, to escape when the bartender leaned over.

“Excuse me, miss?” She looked up at him. He was a white guy with floppy brown hair and a little bit of scruff. He had on a worn-out flannel over a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows like it was 2010.

“Miss?” He said again. She met his eyes and focused on what he was saying. “Hi, sorry to interrupt, but there was a problem with your card. I need you to come to the register at the other end of the bar so we can sort it out.”

“My card?” She asked confused, “but I didn’t…” Iris trailed off as she saw him widening his eyes at her, looking between her and Tom/dd.

“Oh! Right! My card!” She turned back towards Mr. Talksalot, “I’m so sorry, but I have to go deal with this. Have a lovely night.”  
“I can wait for you to figure it out.”

“Don’t!” Iris yelled a little too eagerly over her shoulder as she followed her flannel-ed white knight to the opposite end of the bar. He was lean, with broad shoulders, like a swimmer.

“That guy wouldn’t stop talking! Why do guys like that always think they’re the most interesting thing in the world? Thank you so much…” Iris trailed off, realizing she didn’t know his name.

“Barry. And because guys like that are douchebags. So, what are you drinking tonight…?”

“Iris, I’m Iris. Um, whiskey, neat.” She answered. He pushed at his sleeves even though they hadn’t slipped from their fixed position on his forearms.

“Iris the badass,” he said with smirk. Her stomach fluttered at that. She noticed him pause for a second, his eyes fixed to the counter.

“Um,” he faltered then regained his composure, taking out a tumbler and filling it with the well drink, “yeah I saw you get that look on your face.” He slid Iris her glass.

“What look?” she asked taking a sip.

“That look. The one that says _this guy can’t take a hint and I can’t find my friends anywhere_.” He smiled a little and she looked down at the drink, her fingers fiddling with the glass.

“So you were watching me?” She hadn’t intended for it to sound that flirty but once it was out of her mouth she decided to roll with it.

The question clearly surprised him. He looked at her, flustered for a moment, before shaking it off and clearing discarded pint glasses off the bar. She tried not to let that hurt her pride too much and finished off her drink.

Barry turned back to her, looking like he was about to say something until he noticed her empty glass.

“Wow.” He stated. “Rough night?”

Starting to loosen up and feel that familiar warm buzz that came with finishing her second drink she responded, “I’m supposed to be here with my best friend celebrating, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh, congratulations. What are we celebrating?” he asked, leaning on the bar. His arms looked strong.

“ _We_ are celebrating my break-up!” She announced.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Iris,” he said as he stood up straighter. Her name sounded good coming out of his mouth.

“You’re sweet, but really I’m okay. He was just some asshole I work with.” A stupid, vain, asshole who ironed his jeans. Who does that?

“Where do you work?”

“I write for that website Snub,” she said begrudgingly. Admittedly it wasn’t a bad job, but Iris started there so young — it was the only real, paid writing gig she ever had. After Scott screwed her over she started thinking maybe she’d been there a few years too long.

“Very cool.” Barry said. She couldn’t gauge by his reaction if he knew what Snub was. She kind of hoped he didn’t. “Wait a second,” he bent down and brought up two

glasses, “if we’re going to make this a proper celebration we need shots.”

At the mention of shots Iris raised her hands in protest.

“That sounds nice, but my wallet can’t handle $17 drinks.” Living in the city Iris and Linda figured they could either order shots when they went out or pay their rent, but not both. A couple times the drinks won.

“No worries,” he told her as he poured the tequila and slid a glass to her, “these are on the house.”

“That’s really, really nice, but I can’t let you do that. Wouldn’t your manager or the owner or whatever be pissed?”

“Nah. I mean he’s a major asshole but I don’t think he’d mind giving some congratulatory shots to a beautiful woman.”

Normally a line like that from some dude in a bar would come off as skeezy and insincere and Iris would blow him off. But coming from him it felt genuine, like he honestly thought she was beautiful. For the first time in a while Iris wasn’t quite sure how to react.

“Ehrm,” he interrupted her stupor, grabbing the back of his neck with one hand and raising his glass with the other. “Here’s to… here’s to…”

“The future?” She offered questioningly.

“Yeah. Here’s to the future. May this be the first drink of many towards forgetting your ex.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

They clinked their glasses and knocked back their shots, Barry wincing after his while desperately reaching for a slice of lime.

“Punk,” Iris teased.

He smiled back at her and for a moment the din of the crowed bar faded to the background. She looked at his face, dusted with freckles. Only his left cheek had a dimple which she had the strange urge to poke.

“There you are!” She felt Linda’s hand on her shoulder. Just like that her moment with the cute bartender was over and she was thrown back into reality.

“I’ve been looking for you forever!” Linda shouted a bit too loudly to Iris.

“Yeah right, Lin!” She shouted back. She turned to introduce her new friend but he was already gone. For a second she wondered if it was even real. She couldn’t lie, she was a little disappointed.

“How are you feeling?” Linda grabbed Iris’ face and studied her eyes. “Has it hit you yet?”

“I don’t think so,” she replied through her smushed cheeks. Truth be told Iris had completely forgotten they took edibles earlier, otherwise she definitely would have turned down those shots.

“How ‘bout you?” She asked, though as Linda began to separate the individual strands of Iris’ hair she was certain of the answer.

“Alright, pretty girl, time to go home.”

“Whattt, noooooo. I feel great, Iris. Have I ever told you how soft your hair is, dude?”

“Okay let’s go.” Iris responded.

She thought about leaving her number for Barry as she closed out her tab but then Linda started to touch other people’s hair so she rushed to get her out of there.

Just as Iris began to think her’s must have been a dud, the high hit her. It was like being frozen in a giant jello mold; it seemed like the entire world slowed down while her brain raced at a million miles a minute. One second she was washing her face and the next she was thinking about how the faucet was like a teeny tiny waterfall, making her feel like a giant. The minute a 5’4” girl starts calling herself a giant, it’s a wrap.

She fell asleep that night feeling like a rowboat on the ocean caught in a whirlpool. She dreamt vividly of pepperoni pizza and bartenders with green eyes and floppy hair.

——

The next morning Iris woke up in Linda’s bed, the TV still on, reheated Chinese leftovers, and, now, very melted ice cream surrounding them. She grabbed her phone from the night stand, checking the time and making sure she didn’t send any regrettable texts — as she’d been known to do on more than one occasion. She saw a text from Mari:

 _Mari_ 9:43am

> Sorry I ruined the mission :(

> I don’t know what happened! Those guys were really hot!

> AND THEY WERE DOMINICAN. You KNOW I don’t act right around Dominican men!!

> Buy you and sleeping beauty brunch to make it up???

 _Iris_ 10:46am

> You didn’t ruin anything! I’m just happy you got home safe

> Girl you were MESSED UP

>But I’ll never say no to free brunch. Let me try to wake up the monster give mean hour

She put her phone aside and rolled over to face Linda who had a puddle of drool on her pillow.

“Gross,” Iris whispered. She cleared her throat, “wakey, wakey”. She started gently poking Linda’s face.

“Ughhhh,” Linda groaned as she came to, “What?”

“It’s almost 11 and Mari’s buying us brunch. Time to get up.”

“Five more minutes, mom,” Linda bargained.

“Sorry, kiddo, but the bottomless mimosas are calling your name. Listen: ‘Lindaaa, Lindaa, come drink us Lindaaa’,” Iris whispered into her friend’s face as Linda half-heartedly attempted to swat her away.

“Coffeee,” Linda whined as Iris got out of bed and began to clear away the remnants of their late-night feast.

 _“_ There’s coffee at brunch, so get your _ass_ up,” she emphasized as she smacked her through the thick layer of blankets, “and let’s go!”

“You’re so _mean_ to me!” Linda called out as Iris left her bedroom, but she could hear the covers drawing back and Linda’s feet hitting the wood floor.

As she was getting ready she thought about the bartender again. Iris thought about his stupid brown hair and, really, who has that many freckles? He was pretty cute and he made her laugh. He was definitely flirting with her, right? Or had she just projected on to him in her cross-faded haze? And why was she still thinking about him? She usually didn’t get hung up on pale white guys, especially ones that looked like they were in Mumford & Sons. She shook it off, telling herself to forget about Barry, and that she’d probably never see him again.

——

They met at their secret Sunday brunch spot, the only place without a line out the door. To the average person it was a nondescript, touristy diner, but Jitters had the best bottomless brunch, the best coffee, and, not to mention, the best prices in the entire city. They met there whenever they needed to catch up or when they needed the best hangover breakfast any of them had ever had.

They slid into their usual booth towards the back. Mari immediately began rattling off her apologies while Linda, sunglasses still on, laid her head on the table until their coffee cups were filled. After Iris assured Mari no one was upset, and Linda had two cups of coffee, they filled the others in on their nights.

Mari talked about her Dominicans who gave her a flask of rum. Linda reported back on her finance bro. It turns out while Iris was marooned with Tom/Todd (“Can we just call him T Money”, Linda offered), Linda was making out with Bro, getting familiar with his butt, until they got into a fight about fetishizing Asian women.

“And then he said he’d been waiting for a hot Asian chick like me to show up the entire night.”

“Gross,” “Yikes,” Iris and Mari said simultaneously.

“Then he had the audacity to say I was being too sensitive when I called him on it,” Linda spat out with disgust, then immediately clutched her head with a wince at her volume.

“That motherfucker,” Mari responded, pounding her balled fist on the table.

“Why the hell do people think that’s okay? Like, seriously, don’t they see how patronizing it is?” Iris said.

“Exactly! So I spilled the rest of the drink he bought in his lap before I found our girl sitting alone at the bar.”

“Alone?” Mari asked, turning her attention from Linda to Iris.

“Actually, the bartender kind of saved me from the dude who wouldn’t let me leave.”

Mari and Linda exchanged a brief look before turning their attention to Iris with matching smirks on their faces.

“What!?” Iris asked from behind her coffee mug.

“Would this bartender happen to be _good looking_?” Linda asked while lightly nudging her arm.

Iris looked down at her eggs, pushing them around with her fork.

“I mean, he wasn’t _ugly_.”

“Oooh, girl. Did you guys talk?” Mari asked.

“I thanked him for getting me away from–“

“–T money,” Mari interrupted.

“…from T money…and then I told him I was there with Linda celebrating a break-up and he kinda bought me a drink.”

Mari and Linda looked at each other in disbelief.

“BIIIITTTTTCCCCHHHHHH!” A startled busboy turned around at Linda’s deep exclamation.

“Oh my god, Linda there are children here.”

“That’s not my problem. You’re telling me you sat here and listened to me whine about some racist asshole and you weren’t even going to mention this fucking superhero you met last night?” Linda was practically bouncing up and down in her seat.

“I don’t know about superhero, he was just a good dude.”

“What’s the difference, babe?” Mari chimed in.

“Either way, we didn’t exchange numbers and I doubt I’ll see him again.”

“Wait, what was the name of the bar you guys ended up at?” Mari asked.

“Um…” Iris said.

“Dude I couldn’t even remember my name this morning” Linda added.

“Christ.”

“Well, there wasn’t a lot of time to notice with Linda almost getting us killed crossing the street!” Iris said.

“What!?” Mari asked.

“Are we alive? Yes. So everything’s fine and Iris is being dramatic.”

“Mhmm,” Iris rolled her eyes at Linda.

They finished their food and eventually reached the bottom of those mimosas. After a short yet loud argument, Iris and Linda convinced Mari to let them pay their parts of the check. When Iris went into her wallet to get her card she realized it was missing.

“Fuck me,” she exclaimed, exasperated.

“Language, dear!” Linda joked. “What’s wrong?”

“My credit card’s gone!”

“Where was the last place you used it? Retrace your steps,” Mari offered.

“Well, Lin and I took the train back, and I used cash for the pizza,” Iris rattled off.

“Wait, didn’t we use your card to open the tab when we got to the bar?” Linda asked, hardly trying to keep the excitement out of her voice.

“We don’t even know the name of the bar!” Iris protested.

“It’s Sunday, we have all day to retrace our steps and reunite you with your hero. Commencing phase 4 of _Mission: Iris Gets Rebound Dick_.”

“What happened to _Iris Reclaims Her Time_?”

“Plans change, just go with it,” Mari said, the two of them already rushing out the door.

Iris rolled her eyes but if she had to be honest with herself, she couldn’t deny that she was a little bit thrilled at the idea of seeing Barry again.

“Wait you guys! We still have to pay!” Iris yelled after them.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey Barry, the guy at table two says he didn’t realize shrimp was shellfish and wants a refund because he ‘forgot he was allergic’.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Barry said to the server, completely over it.

Since they started serving lunch, Barry had been dealing with increasingly dumber requests. If he had it his way, the bar would never have started serving food or hosting parties, but, as his accountant reminded him again and again, they couldn’t get by just pouring drinks.

“It’s fine, Gar,” he told the young waiter, “just ask if he wants to order something else and offer a dessert on the house or something.”

He watched Gar head back to the table. Soon he was laughing with the family, who seemed to have forgotten the shrimp all together. As Barry stood watching the scene behind two feet of oak, he thought about how he could never replicate that same ease and comfort with the customers. He was happiest behind the bar, serving drinks and taking tips. Barry always felt that being a bartender afforded a certain freedom that waiting tables didn’t; you could be rude right back to a stupid customer. Even if they could afford to hire new staff, Barry would never want to give it up completely; pouring drinks behind this bar was the first real job he ever had. 

It was a slow Sunday afternoon. There was a break in the oppressive summer heat so Barry had the large windows lining the face of the bar open. The lunch rush had since died down and it was uncharacteristically quiet on the street. Barry was safe behind his bar, reading a paperback copy of _Naked Human_ by Christopher Poindexter. “ _And in the end, we were all just humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal brokenness”._ _Well that’s a load of–_ , Barry’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard the hostess say “…you can check with the owner”. _Not again_.

He debated whether or not he had enough time to sprint down to the cellar but heard the footsteps already approaching. Instead he kept his nose in the book, hoping not to be dragged into a conversation where he would likely be blamed for something inane that he had little to no control over.

“So, the owner’s an asshole, huh?”

He looked up from the page, dumbfounded. It was her.

“It’s you.” He said it before he could stop himself. “I mean,” He fumbled as he closed his book and got up from the stool he was seated on.

She laughed at him, but he didn’t mind.

“Iris,” she reintroduced herself.

“Right, Iris,” though he hadn’t forgotten. He took a moment to steady himself before trying to have a normal conversation. “So, what can I do for you, Iris?”

“I think I might have left my credit card here last night,” she told him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Iris,” he HAD to stop saying her name, what was wrong with him. _Just be cool_. “Nobody’s turned anything in.”

“Ugh, fuck me!” She was even cuter when she was swearing. _God, dude, get it together._

“If you want you can give me your number.”

“Oh”, she said, clearly a little caught off guard.

“I just meant, so I can call you if someone brings the card in,” he rushed on.

“Oh,” she said again. Did she sound a little disappointed? Seriously, what was wrong with him? This is why he didn’t deal with people, he never said the right thing.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds great. Thanks, Barry,” she continued on, before he had too much time to overthink it.

“Let me just find something to write on…umm…” Barry fumbled looking for something to give Iris, patting all of his pockets looking for a stray paper and effectively feeling himself up as she watched. 

“Here, just,” he’d given up looking and offered her the inside cover of his book. “Use this.”

She laughed at him, again, and for a second he wondered if there was anything he wouldn’t do to hear that laugh.

Iris took the book and the pen he’d been using to annotate. She scribbled her number down before handing it back to him.

“‘Iris the Badass’,” he read her careful cursive from the book.

She shrugged and shot him a smile.

“Well, I guess I should be – ”

“Wait,” he interrupted her and spastically knocked over his glass of water, spilling it down the front of his pants. “Ah shit.” _Be cool man, be cool_. Another laugh bolstered his confidence. “Stay, have a drink.” _Nice._

“Thanks, Barry, that sounds nice but I really do have to get going.”

He deflated a bit at the rejection.

“Next time then,” he said.

“Definitely. Don’t forget to call” she said as she started to head towards the door. She turned back to face him. “You know, if someone brings my credit card back,” she added.

“Right. Bye Iris.”

“Bye, Barry.”

—— 

After closing up for the afternoon, Barry went to Cisco’s house for a Sunday night dinner —a tradition they preserved from childhood. Cisco and Barry had been best friends since grade school, bonding over a shared love of bad sci-fi and good music. Barry felt most like himself hanging out at Cisco’s house after school and on the weekends, listening to every album in his dad’s collection and re-watching episodes of _Commander Carl —_ a short lived, _Star Trek_ / _Battlestar Glactica_ -esque TV show from the 1960s, whose entire fanbase essentially consisted of Barry and Cisco. The pair had seen each other through it all. Barry was Cisco’s best man at his wedding to his college girlfriend, Cynthia, and was at the birth of their first child, Sam. Over the years no matter how busy life got (mostly on Cisco’s end) they managed to keep a steady date for Sunday night dinners.

“Hey everybody,” Barry called, closing the door behind him.

“We’re in the kitchen” he heard Cindy call back.

Since their sophomore year the three of them always planned to move to the city after graduating. They worked every odd job, participated in every psych experiment, tutored every frat boy, to save up money for a place. Whether it was sheer luck or destiny, maybe a sign from god, some great aunt of Cindy’s moved back to Puerto Rico to be with family and offered to sublet them her apartment for next to nothing. It was a six-floor walk up, two bedroom in an okay neighborhood and the three of them could not have loved it more. Barry lived there for years until his friends got engaged — they didn’t ask him to go but they never had to. This apartment, the one in between a bodega and barbershop, was where the three friends spent their twenties. In a way, Barry cherished it more than his childhood home.

Barry placed his keys on the mail table beside framed photos: one of the three of them at graduation, one from Cisco and Cindy’s wedding, and one of baby Sam. He thought about the day he met Cindy, Cisco had been talking about her for a week and from the way he described her Barry half-expected her to be eight feet tall. Cindy was beautiful, she was tough yet kind, with a great sense of humor; Cisco had always been the smartest person Barry knew until he met Cindy. She was the first in her family to go to a four-year college and her father couldn’t have been prouder. Not long after graduation she landed her dream job as a civil engineer, which Cisco still bragged about. He looked the photos over for a minute with a smile, continuing on into the kitchen.

“It’s Uncle Barry, Sammy. Can you say ‘Uncle Barry’?” Cisco was on the tile floor entertaining the baby while Cindy moved food to the table. 

Sam stared at his dad with a blank, chubby face and wide eyes.

“Sorry dude, I guess he hates you,” Cisco said to Barry.

“That’s not true,” Barry said, bending down to give Sam a kiss, “right, kid?”

Sam gave Barry a wide smile, slobber covering both of his baby chins.

“Come on you guys, dinner’s ready,” Cindy called.

——

After dinner, Cynthia took Sam for a bath while Barry and Cisco took care of the dishes. Cisco recounted the details of their recent week-long visit to Cindy’s father’s house while they worked.

“We’ve been dating since we were freshman! I’ve known this man for TEN YEARS and he still makes me call him Mr. Reynolds!” Cisco lamented as he passed Barry dishes to dry.

All Barry could do was laugh at his friend.

“Man remember him at your wedding?” Barry asked through his laughter. “I don’t think I saw him smile once.” He tried to mimic Mr. Reynolds’ gloomy disposition but couldn’t hold a straight face.

“I’m glad you find it funny, Bartholomew, but this is my life we’re talking about!”

They finished with the last few dishes, grabbed a couple of beers and headed to the couch.

“So how’s the bar? How are things going with Patty?”

Patty Spivot and Barry had maintained a complicated relationship for the better part of the last five years. Barry and Patty were never officially dating, their arrangement of sorts slipped into a gray area, landing somewhere between friends with benefits and a committed relationship. No one, except for them, understood it — and even they didn’t totally seem to get it either. They never had a label: sometimes they would sleep together and spend days — sometimes weeks — at one of their places. Sometimes they were just friends. They made sense, on paper, and the sex was good, great, really. When one called the other answered, sometimes months going by between interactions. They were each other’s Swiss Army knives: in theory handy in every situation, and apt for survival, though never quite as good as the real thing. Barry often wondered if the only reason they kept their ~ _thing~_ going was the familiarity; maybe it was better than being completely alone.

“Bar’s good. Patty’s good,” Barry answered simply before taking a long sip from his beer. He could feel Cisco staring at him.

“What?”

“Dude, I know you’re not telling me something. You’re in way too good a mood.”

“Can’t I just be happy to be hanging out with my best friends and my nephew?”

“Cut the crap. Did you and Patty finally decide to get serious?” Cisco asked wagging his eyebrows.

Ever since he and Cindy had gotten engaged, Cisco started pressuring Barry about settling down too, telling him to “start thinking about what you really want out of life”. The engagement was the first time Barry and Cisco fell out of sync, something Barry didn’t notice until his last box was sitting in the living room of his empty studio apartment on the other side of town. Cisco and Cindy made sure Barry was aware of how much they liked Patty, how smart they thought she was, how good they looked together. His best friends were about as subtle as a gun.

“What? No. I’m telling you, everything’s the same. Patty and I are just friends. Nothing’s changed since last week.”

“Alright, fine. If you say so. But you are in a non-sulky mood and I will find out why,” Cisco said as he reached for the remote.

“Whatever man,” Barry said drinking his beer, Cisco getting on his nerves.

“Sam’s finally down,” Cindy said as she walked back into the living room after grabbing her own beer from the fridge.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” Cisco announced in the cheesiest way possible as she sat next to him on the couch. She rolled her eyes but cuddled into his arm around her. Barry felt right at home as their third wheel — when he wasn’t gagging at their PDA he was happy for them. They were two great people who’d found each other in an intro to psych class. They made each other stupidly happy and created an awesome tiny person out of it.

Barry took the hint, and said his goodbyes before heading back to his empty apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little necessary Barry background. also I would give my life for baby Sam.


	3. Chapter 3

Monday at the office is never fun. Monday, seeing your ex after breaking up with him in bed: pure torture.

_Iris_ 2:33pm

> I swear to GOD if Scott walks by my desk one more time I’m gonna stab him.

_Linda_ 2:33pm

> LOVING THE ENERGY BABE

> but isn’t your desk right by the copy machine??

Just as she was about to respond, an incoming call from an unknown number came across the screen.

“This is Iris West,” she answered in her serious-reporter-phone-voice.

“Wow, a guy finds your credit card and he can’t even get a hello?”

Her mind went blank. Then _ohmygodohmygodohmygod_.

“Hello? Iris are you there? It’s–it’s Barry…Barry from the bar…”

“Hey, yeah sorry, I think the call dropped for a second…”

_Nice save, girl_.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you found it!” She exclaimed loudly enough for her desk mates to cut their eyes at her.

“Yeah, I know. One of my servers just called me saying she found it behind the register so I called you and I’m surprised you picked up. I never pick up a from a number I don’t recognize, but that’s just me, and I totally realize I’m rambling and must sound a little desperate.”

He was cute on the phone too.

“No, not at all. I can swing by after I get out of here and come pick it up. Maybe around 6ish?” 

“Okay! Just shoot me a text when you’re coming by and I’ll head down to the bar.”

“Thank you so, so much! I owe you one.”

“Just doing my civic duty. See you tonight, Iris,” he said before hanging up.

For a moment she twirled in her desk chair feeling like a high schooler who just got asked to prom by the hot senior. She stopped as heads turned, feeling a bit ridiculous and a little embarrassed that her nosy, young coworkers saw that. She felt her phone buzz and for a second she thought it might’ve been him.

_Linda_ 2:40

> We still need to get more solo cups for Friday

>Also can you get me some more overnight pads on your way home?

_Iris_ 2:40

> Yeah sure no problem

> Guess who just called me???

_Linda_

> If you say anyone other than mumford and sons bartender I’m gonna slap you

_Iris_

_ > _He said they found my card! I’m gonna go over after work and pick it up.

_Linda_

> YAASSS QUEEEN

> Are you trying to get with him????

_Iris_

> DUDE!

> CHILL!!

> He’s really nice, but I can’t tell if he’s into me

_Linda_

> Bitch everyone’s into you.

> But if you actually like him maybe you shouldn’t sleep with him…

Iris was definitely confused. What happened to Linda’s crusade to get her laid? After all she was the one who made them wander around the Lower East Side for two hours on Sunday looking for the right bar, even though Iris could’ve (and admittedly should have) just canceled the credit card. They finally found the right one in the daytime seeing the gold lettering proudly displaying the establishment’s name: Harry's. Mari and Linda made her put on lip gloss, made sure her boobs looked good, then practically shoved her inside and ran.

_Iris_

> ???

_Linda_

> Look all I’m saying is if this guy is as cute, funny, and NICE as you say he is maybe don’t use him for a rebound?

> You know what I mean?

Iris felt deflated. But, she knew Linda was right. She’d just gotten out of a five month lack luster relationship. She definitely didn’t want to make things confusing.

_Iris_ 2:50

>You’re right

> I’ll keep it causal

——

Iris wasn’t able to leave the office until 7:30. Scott convinced their editor to push some story about the Top 15 Hipster Sports to Check Out This Week on her last minute. After hours of researching intramural adult kickball leagues and competitive standup paddle boarding she was finally able to sneak out to catch the train downtown. She found a seat and remembered to text Barry.

_Iris_ 7:44

> Hey Barry, it’s Iris

> I’ll be there in 20min :)

She slapped her palm to her forehead and groaned. Why did she add that smiley face?

“Keep it casual, West. Just friends,” she said to herself. Iris caught an accidental glimpse of herself when the screen went dark and found her soul sucking day at the office evident in her reflection. She took down her hair and tried, unsuccessfully, to scrunch her curls into place, and managed to get on some lipstick in between the rattle of the train. Iris looked up to see a passenger sitting across the car staring at her in confusion before looking down at his newspaper. _Awesome_. Barry’s answer came in fast despite the shoddy reception.

_Barry_ 7:44

>Hi Iris :)

>See you soon!

She had to stop herself from smiling at his emoji reciprocation. “Casual, casual casual,” she repeated to herself. She looked up to find the newspaper passenger staring at her again, this time he smiled at her revealing a single gold tooth hanging right where his two front teeth should’ve been. _I really need to get a car._

——

After 20 minutes passed, Iris sent a text saying she was downstairs. Barry looked over himself in the mirror, admitting this was as good as it was gonna get, and went to meet her outside. He saw her standing there in a loose collared dress, cinched at the waist, with the sleeves pushed up and her dark hair down but pinned back from her face. Her back was turned when he approached, so when he called out it made her jump a little before turning.

“You scared me, dude.”

“Ah, sorry,” he said, reaching to grab his neck, a nervous tick he had since childhood that he just couldn’t shake.

“No worries,” she told him with an earth shattering smile. She tucked a stray curl back behind her ear. “Where’d you even come from? I didn’t see you inside.”

“Oh, uh my apartment’s just up there, above the bar,” he told her, pointing to his fire escape.

She followed his index finger and looked to be considering it for a moment.

“I think if I lived that close to work I might kill myself. Then again, I’d probably never be late,” she said still looking up.

“Oh I’m always late to work,” he said earnestly. “But I guess that’s one of the perks of being the boss.”

There was that laugh again. He was fixated on her smile that reached her big brown eyes reflecting the amber of the flickering street lamp. God, she was pretty.

“How did you get that place anyways?” She asked, adjusting the strap of the bag on her shoulder.

“The bar?”

She nodded.

“I’ve been working there for, geez what’s it been now, maybe eight years? The old owner hired me and then a couple years ago he decided to retire, wanted to go spend some time with his daughter,” he told her, looking over at the place starting to fill up. “He kind of just told me one day that I was in charge.”

“And you just said, ‘sure, no problem’?” Iris asked.

“Basically,” he laughed.

 

“Sorry for all the questions, it’s a bit of an occupational hazard.”

“Oh that’s okay, I don’t mind.” _Not one bit_.

She watched him with a closed lipped smile, slightly shaking her head.

“What?” He asked.

“I’m realizing this is the first time I’ve seen you out from behind the bar,” she told him.

Taking a step back he rose his arms and did a proper pageant twirl for her.

“So what do you think?” He asked.

Iris stroked her chin, looking him up and down. “You’re taller than I thought.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Is it ever?”

He watched her re-tuck that same, stubborn loose strand of her hair behind her ear and realized he’d just been staring at her like a creep for a few silent seconds again. He cleared his throat.

“Here,” he handed her back the blessed piece of plastic that brought this woman back to him.

“Oh right. I almost forgot about that. Thanks,” she said taking it. “You know, this is the second time you’ve saved me since we met.”

He smiled back at her. “Like I said, Iris, just doing my civic duty. But I do recall you owing me a drink.”

“Oh I do, huh?”

He closed his eyes and nodded his head once at her, “yup.”  
“Well, I don’t know what you’re up to but my roommate and I are throwing our annual Peterson party this Friday.”

“Your what?” He asked unsure if he heard her right.

“Our Peterson party”, she said simply, as if it was the most normal thing in the universe.

“Ah, right right…What’s a Peterson party?” Barry asked.

“A few years back we started bribing our super, this old Jewish guy named Peterson, to let us throw one party during the summer on the building’s roof.” Her eyes lit up, clearly excited to tell the story. “It started when we wanted to have a going away party for one of our neighbors. It took a lot of baked goods, and being his son's date to his nephew's bar mitzvah,” she visibly shuddered at that making Barry chuckle. “But it was so worth it. Not to brag, but they’ve been known to be pretty legendary,” she told him.

“That’s incredible.”

“No. It’s le-gen-dary,” she corrected him with mock seriousness, emphasizing each syllable. “It starts at 8. All we ask is that you bring booze, snacks, or entertainment. And you can bring someone if you want. You know, like a best friend, or a significant other… whoever,” Iris said, shifting her weight between her feet, playing with the credit card in her hand.

“A significant other?”

Iris froze, “well yeah, or whatever…”

He smiled, “the last time I had a significant other, Pluto was a planet.”

_Pluto was a planet, why would you say that to her._

“Smooth,” she smiled back at him and his self-deprecation melted away.

“Well I wouldn’t miss Iris West’s legendary Peterson party for the world.” He could’ve sworn he saw her perk up.

“Great! I’ll text you the address. Later…nerd.”

He chuckled as he watched her walk away, “Later…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's slightly annoying that the chapters aren't completely broken up into one POV over another BUT I know that breaking it up like this gives it a better flow


	4. Chapter 4

Friday couldn’t come fast enough. As soon as he left the bar that Monday he texted Cisco telling him to get a sitter. Barry was careful not to tell him about Iris. If his friends found out he’d never hear the end of it and they’d probably scare her off before he could even make a move for himself.

After a seemingly endless stream of annoying customers and a meeting with his accountant, Barry was finally standing in front of Iris’ building with his friends. Cisco and Cindy, never the boring ones, decided to break out their space cake recipe from sophomore year, claiming it fell under the “entertainment” category of the specifications he gave them. Barry brought a bottle of his favorite tequila for Iris and a couple cases of beer for the rest of the party — he wasn’t sure how many people would be there. 

_Barry_ 8:30pm

> We’re outside your building!

“So how did you say you found out about this party again?” Cisco asked, his arm around his wife’s waist.

“I told you, one of the regulars from the bar mentioned it.” Barry shifted uncomfortably. He had a hard time lying to Cisco, even if it wasn’t anything major. “They said we couldn’t miss it; that it’s gonna be legendary.” An absentminded smile crept on to his face at her words.

“If you say so man.”

As he heard Cisco plant a loud kiss on Cindy he felt his phone vibrate.

_Iris_ 8:31pm

> Yay!! Door should be open, take the elevator to the top floor and then the stairs up to the roof!

“Haven’t you learned in the 20 years we’ve known each other, dear Francisco? Never doubt me.”

“Weren’t you the one who said if we just crammed for that calc final we’d end up with A’s?” Cindy countered, referring to the time Barry’s sage advice caused them all to nearly fail their exam.

“You hush. Come on, guys,” he said picking up his party favors and pushing the door open with his back. “Live a little.”

Iris said the party was going to be great but he never imagined it’d be like this. The spacious roof of the ten-story apartment building was covered in carefully hung string lights and baby pools filled with ice chilling a wide assortment of bottles and cans. Lawn chairs were thoughtfully scattered around with a cleared space in the middle for a dance floor. Hanging above the makeshift DJ booth, strung up between two inflatable palm trees, was a hand painted banner reading “PETERSON

BEACH-A-PALOOZA 2K18”. The decor alone was beyond anything Barry expected, but what he found most amazing was the view. For such a nondescript building uptown, it was a shockingly beautiful vantage point. The sun had already gone down but the city skyline against the fading orange was unlike any other. The twinkle of the lights from the buildings downtown almost made you forget all of the chaos out on the streets below.

Though the party had only started 30 minutes ago there were at least 40 people there, some already starting drinking games as the DJ finished setting up their equipment.

“Whoa,” Cindy said as the three of them took it all in. `

“Yeah,” Barry and Cisco echoed in agreement. Barry set down the cases of beer he hauled up the stairs.

Still marveling in shock at the door, Barry almost missed Iris making her way over to greet them and that would have been a true tragedy. She was dressed to theme in a short, loose, yellow dress with a Hawaiian floral print and a matching hibiscus flower tucked behind her ear. The warm color made her brown skin glow. She looked like a walking ray of sunshine and Barry couldn’t help but stare.

A quiet “wow” escaped him before he could contain it.

She rushed over and gave him a tight hug. With their height difference her head rested against his chest. He smiled and pulled her close to him. Her hair smelled sweet.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” She shouted to him over the volume of the party.

“Me too!” He shouted back. “You weren’t kidding. This is amazing.”

“You ain’t seen nothing, just wait until people really start showing up!”

She was smiling brightly up at him, clearly proud of her efforts. Before he could get too lost in her, he remembered his friends standing a foot away.

He cleared his throat. “Iris,” he said taking a half step away from her, “these are my friends slash parents Cisco and Cynthia.”

She gave each of them a warm hug too. Maybe she was just a touchy-feely person and he shouldn’t feel special about his greeting.

“Do you come in colors everywhere?” Cisco asked her with a toothy grin once they separated.

“Uh,” Barry noticed her falter, but maintain the same kind smile, even as she looked over at him for help.

“‘She’s a Rainbow’,” he offered after another moment of silence to matching blank stares and his wife’s frustrated sigh. “The Rolling Stones? You know cause your name’s Iris. Like the rainbow goddess? Like Greek mythology!?”

“Oh my god. Okay. I can’t watch whatever this is happen anymore.” Cindy stepped in, like always, to spare any uninitiated civilian of Cisco’s small talk. “Thanks for having us, Iris! Please excuse my lame husband,” she teased, “he doesn’t get out much.” 

“Okay, rude. Besides, would a lame husband bring his famous pot brownies to a rooftop party?” He said triumphantly holding up his Tupperware as Iris and Barry laughed at the couple. “You married one cool dude, baby.”

“Whoa, Barry, your parents are _way_ cooler than mine,” Iris played along. “Thanks guys! You can put them on the table over there.”

Cisco and Cindy headed off into the direction Iris pointed. Before they were totally separated by the crowd, Cisco looked back and shot Barry a big double thumbs up of approval. They might not have been his actual parents, but they definitely embarrassed him like it. 

“So what did _you_ bring me?” Iris asked, getting his complete attention back. He couldn’t help but notice how amazing her hips looked in this dress.

“Well,” he said kicking the cases of beer, “I brought these for the party. And I brought this,” he said pulling out the tequila, “for you”.

“What a gentleman,” she said squeezing his forearm and taking it from him. “Don’t move, I’ll be back in two seconds.”

She dashed off to stow the bottle safely in her kitchen before the party goers could rip into it while Barry distributed the beers to a few kiddie pools. He looked around trying to get a better idea of who else was at the party. Everyone looked to be in their late twenties, early thirties. A surprising number of them were dressed to the beach theme like Iris. Obviously this party was taken seriously. He scanned the rooftop unconsciously looking for anyone that could be Iris’ boyfriend. Or girlfriend — to be fair he didn’t know her that well. He didn’t know what he was doing and as soon as he caught sight of Iris, reentering with a couple new guests, alternating waves of guilt and embarrassment washed over him. He watched her chat with them for a moment, then look around the rooftop until her eyes fell on him. She excused herself and began walking over. 

“I thought I told you not to move.” Her words came out as a playful accusation. She grabbed his hand and began to pull him towards the DJ.

“I want to introduce you to someone” she explained. Barry barely heard her; all of his attention was focused on his hand in hers, their fingers interlaced. They were significantly smaller than his but her grip was strong. He silently prayed his hands weren’t too sweaty.

She dropped his hand and he snapped out of it. Iris threw her arms around a woman standing in front of her so that she hugged her from behind. She was slightly taller than Iris, with sunglasses perched on top of her shoulder length, straight black hair, and wearing jean shorts and a bikini top under an open Hawaiian shirt.

“Linda this is Barry, the owner of the bar. Barry this is my roommate and my best friend, Linda.”

He was more than relieved to hear it was platonic; he wasn’t sure how good his chances would have been up against Linda.

“I heard you saved our girl from some whack dude at the bar,” she said squeezing Iris back.

Barry didn’t want to say the wrong thing to her. Linda was a little bit intimidating and clearly protective of Iris, so he just shrugged, unsure of how to respond. He decided he definitely didn’t want to be on her bad side.

“He also brought us a ton of beer and a very nice bottle of tequila” Iris chimed in.

“See, I told you he was a superhero,” Linda said leaning back into Iris’ embrace, looking him over with approval. The comment diffused some of Barry’s awkwardness. She talked about him with her best friend?

“You kids go dance, I’m gonna go try to find Mari,” Linda said patting Iris’ arms before untangling herself and walking away.

Barry turned back to Iris who was now fidgeting a little in front of him.

“She seems like a good person to have your back,” Barry said to fill the silence, but meaning it.

“Yeah, she’s pretty alright when she pays her rent on time,” Iris responded with a smile. “C’mon let’s go dance.”

“Uh, I don’t know. Believe it or not these noodle legs aren’t great for dancing,” Barry said, wanting to be with her but knowing that his truly heinous dancing ability wasn’t exactly a turn on.

“Well then let’s go drink until your noodle moves start to look good.” She grabbed his hand again and led him to the drink table.

——

Four jello shots and a quick game or two of beer pong later, Iris was feeling it. Her body at once felt more comfortable and more foreign, as she doubled over in laughter at something Cindy said, grabbing Barry’s arm for support. She was trying to remember her own advice and “keep it casual” with him, but then he showed up in that basic, short sleeve button down and she realized two things: 1) he was _way_ more built than she remembered and 2) he had tattoos. She tried to get a better look as the night went on, though every time she got close enough she had a strong urge to run her hands over his biceps which could only lead to something messy.

She was happy to be getting to know Cindy and Cisco. They were funny in their own rights and so in love it kinda made you hate them. Except they were too real to hate, which was made clear as the couple bickered over the insignificant details of their shared memories. Iris loved watching the three of them reminisce about their college days and talk about becoming real grownups together; at one point she thought Barry was gushing more about Sam than his parents were, as he pulled up photo after photo of his friends’ kid.

“Oh, oh! This one’s the best,” he said scrolling to yet another photo of Sam, this one with Cisco holding him up as a Labrador licked his little hand. Sam’s eyes were squeezed tight, a shriek of joy escaping him. “We thought Sam would’ve been scared but he was just so excited!” Barry was definitely drunk and starting to get more comfortable at the party. Iris wondered if he always did this when he’d been drinking and a part of her hoped it was just for her. Barry’s eyes lit up as he recalled that afternoon with his godson and a goofy grin stretched across his face. All respect to Sam, but it was pretty hot watching Barry be a devoted godfather.

At this point even Cindy and Cisco were rolling their eyes at him.

“I think you might be more obsessed with the kid than I am and he lived inside me.”

Iris laughed at Cindy’s comment and Barry blushed a little, returning his phone to his pocket. Cisco’s hand clapped his shoulder before walking off with his wife to dance. Iris watched as Barry fussed with the label on his water bottle, focusing his attention on peeling it up at the corners. She couldn’t let him retreat back into his shell just as he was starting to come out.

“So, Cisco’s a stay at home dad?”

“No. I mean yes….Well, kinda,” he replied, looking back up at her. He really was pretty adorable.

“He’s a graphic designer, so he works from home with Sammy,” he clarified. “Actually,” he reached in his back pocket, “he designed the logo for the bar.” He handed her a business card bearing the image Iris remembered from the sign.

“It’s beautiful.”

Barry huffed out a laugh, “I’ll tell him you thought so.”

She continued looking at the card. “Can I keep it?”

“Um, sure. Yeah.” He passed the card to her then lulled back into a silence, she worried he was all tapped out on the conversation front. She smiled at him, not knowing what else to do and not wanting it all to be on her.

“Ah, I love this song,” she tried, even though she had never heard the song playing before in her life.

Luckily, Barry took the bait. “Well I think I might be just drunk enough to try dancing. I-I mean if you want to still...”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

She took his water and set it down beside hers. Reaching down for his hand, she excitedly pulled him to the packed dance floor. He hesitated for a second then immediately thew his body in a violent motion, jumping around a half beat off to the bad pop song. With his arms flailing around, she couldn’t help but think he looked like one of those inflatable tube guys outside of a car dealership. She burst out laughing which only encouraged his spastic movements.

“I know, the ladies can’t resist these sick moves,” he called out before accidentally jumping into one of her neighbors. He immediately looked embarrassed and apologized profusely but he shook it off and kept going. Her stomach hurt from laughing so hard. 

With the safety of her guests in mind she grabbed the front of his shirt, trying to control his frantic motions.

“Slow your roll there, stud.” He stopped jumping and tried to catch his breath. “You gotta relax.” She slid her hands to his and began leading him in a much calmer two step. Eventually he stopped watching his feet and looked up at her.

“This is nice too, I guess,” he told her with a smirk.

“Oh is it?” she retorted. He shrugged back in response. Encouraged by the alcohol and him she continued, “Well when you’re not jumping around like a lunatic then we can dance close.” She took a step towards him and ran her hands up to his shoulders, “like this”. She wasn’t sure about him, but her own movement gave her goosebumps.

They weren’t really keeping up with the music at this point, but she didn’t care. It was nice to be so close to him. Barry pulled back and looked into her eyes for a while, as if he was deciding whether or not it was okay to speak.

“Hi,” he finally settled on.

Before she could say anything the music faded out.

She turned from Barry to see Linda getting up on a table to face the party, mic in hand.

“What’s up guys!?” She addressed the crowd of, now, about 60 as Iris excused herself and joined her roommate atop the table.

“Are you guys enjoying yourselves?!” A unanimous cheer of approval came from the crowd. Iris saw Barry raise both hands above his head and she stuck her tongue out at him.

Iris took the mic from Linda.

“Thank you guys for joining us at this year’s PETERSON PARTYYYY,” she announced.

“I’ll keep it short. Everyone raise your cups,” Iris commanded and the crowd followed. “Our beautiful friends: eat, drink, and be messy! To Peterson!”

“TO PETERSON” the crowd cheered back. The girls got down with the help of a few ripped guys who seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

“Thank you, boys,” Linda told them, letting her hands linger on one’s chest and the other’s tricep.

Iris rolled her eyes and returned to Barry’s side.

“You’re so poised,” he joked.

“Shut up!” She purposefully bumped into him. He feigned losing his balance and she reached out to catch him. Instead, he pulled her right back to the dance floor, this time into an incredibly awkward two step, jumping hybrid. Iris loved it.

They stayed there for the rest of the night, Barry singing his heart out to every song, censoring himself accordingly ( _AND he’s not racially insensitive_ , Iris thought, _how is this boy single?_ which was immediately followed by her realization that _goddamn the bar is low_ ).She was sweaty and happy. This was easily the best party they’d ever thrown — and she was almost certain that spending the evening with Barry had something to do with that.

As it got later, the DJ (a friend of Mari’s from work) wound down the music, playing slower songs. Most people broke off into smaller groups, talking amongst themselves and enjoying the view, leaving the dance floor mostly empty.Barry had grown more comfortable, leaving behind all of the awkwardness and formalities, and moved closer to Iris. At some point she’d turned away from him and he stepped towards her from behind. Though just as drunk as she was, he was hesitant, clearly not wanting to cross a line. She reached for his hands and brought them to her waist, letting him know it was okay, that she felt good, and that this felt nice. He tightened his grip.

Iris found herself surrounded by him. Everything about that moment felt perfect: the slow, bass-heavy rhythm coming from the speakers; the smell of the cool summer night air; the taste of sugar and alcohol on her tongue; the electric glow of the blue lights strung above the dance floor that almost made up for all the stars they couldn’t see. And Barry, singing along to the music softly in her ear. His hands migrated slowly from her waist to her stomach, never leaving her body once. Here, he was no longer the cute, nerdy guy accidentally body slamming her neighbors. Feeling him pressed against her back as they sunk into a steady rhythm, grinding their hips together in time to the music, he was nothing but sexy. She turned to face him and his hands followed, looping around her waist to her lower back, pulling her still closer as she slung her arms over his shoulders. Their hips still grinding as he pressed his forehead down to hers.

Just as Linda’s words started to float away, she saw Cisco and Cindy hovering by the exit out of the corner of her eye, looking around the party, surely, for Barry. And, as if she’d been drenched with a bucket of ice water, Iris jumped away from him, leaving Barry looking surprised and confused.

“I think Cisco and Cindy are leaving!” She spit out awkwardly. Her voice was too loud, further shattering the intimacy of the space they created.

“Huh?” He hadn’t recovered from the quick switch. Looking over his shoulder where her gaze was fixed, he finally caught on to what she was saying and followed her over to see them off.

“Seriously, this party was amazing!” Cindy said, pulling Iris into a hug.

“We haven’t had a night this fun since Sam was born” Cisco shared her sentiment, giving Iris a quick peck on the cheek, “which isn’t to say that we don’t, you know, love our kid. This party was great and he’s great. I just want it to be clear that we love our son very much.”

“Well I’m happy you guys had a good time, and your dessert was a hit,” she told them, still a little breathless from dancing. “I just barely managed to save a piece for later.”

Iris watched as Cisco and Barry distanced themselves a bit, while Cindy chatted with her about having to relieve her niece of babysitting duty. Iris couldn’t focus on what she said, though, as her mind replayed Barry’s tight grip on her waist. She looked over at him with Cisco, wondering what they were saying. She snapped her attention back to Cindy as soon as Barry looked up and caught her staring.

When they came back, Barry gave Cindy a kiss and a squeeze, telling them to text when they made it home before the couple left for the night.

Iris looked around, surveying the aftermath. The party had died down; all that was left was a few stragglers, a rooftop littered with empty bottles and cans, and him.

“I figured I could help clean up,” Barry offered with a smile.

“Oh, um, I think Linda’s gonna help with that…” she trailed off as she watched Linda descend the stairs to their apartment with the guys who helped them off the table.

“Aaaand she’s gone,” Iris said above Barry’s soft laugh.

“You really don’t have to,” she tried again.

“I know. But I want to,” he said taking one of the garbage bags from under the drink table that Linda had brought up earlier, planning ahead for cleanup.

Without instruction he went around collecting the trash, making sure to separate out the recyclables. He helped her dump the ice from the pools in the drain and take down anything that could blow away overnight. With his help, they managed to finish by 2:25am.

Back in her apartment, seated at her kitchen counter, she poured them each a glass of water and set out a couple of charcoal tablets.

“They help with hangovers, I swear,” she justified to his questioning look. He laughed at her, calling her Dr. Iris, but swallowed it without question.

“Tonight was amazing, Iris,” Barry told her.

“Was it _just_ amazing?” She asked, smirking.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “IT WAS LE-GEN-DA-RY!” He shouted.

She covered his mouth with her hand trying to shush him, but she couldn’t get it out right through her drunk giggles.

“Are you crazy!? You’ll wake the whole block.” She moved her hand from his mouth to his shoulder.

“As if they could’ve slept through that party,” he shot back with a smirk of his own, covering her hand with his and moving the other to her waist.

She dropped her hand and moved back to her space, the two of them falling into slightly uncomfortable silence as they fiddled with their glasses.

“Thanks for having us tonight. The three of us haven’t been out like that in

years — maybe since college,” Barry confessed.

He went quiet again, staring at her with his big green-gold eyes.

She was at a loss for words. She could feel the tension rising. In her head she knew that Linda was probably right and that now was not the most opportune time to sleep with him, but he was perfect and he was right there. Iris looked at his lips and wondered if they were as soft as they looked. _Stop it oh my god stop looking at his lips_. He ran his tongue along the bottom and pushed his hair back which was just about the hottest thing in the world.

He reached back out to touch her hand.

“I’m just– I’m really happy I met you, Iris.” He played with her fingers as she managed to get out a faint “me too”. He stood up from his seat and she followed.

“Well, I should probably get going.” She felt his fingers start to slip out of hers.

_Fuck it._

“Barry, wait.”

He turned back to her and she pressed her lips to his. He didn’t react and she immediately worried she badly misread the situation. She pulled away.

“I’m sorry I don’t know why—”

He was kissing her back before she could finish her apology. The kiss was sloppy but good nonetheless. Barry’s lips were just as soft as she imagined and though the scruff on his cheeks kind of tickled, she got used to it right away. Her fingers, operating on their own accord, entangled with his sweaty brown hair. Just as she was getting lost in the moment she felt his hands move to her waist and her feet lift from the floor. He seated her on the kitchen counter, standing between her legs and pulling at her dress.

“Holy shit,” she got out among ragged breaths.

She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off, revealing a shoulder full of flower tattoos. She had the urge to kiss them, so she did. Moving down his upper body she put her lips to each of them: a daisy, a lily, a bluebell, and a rose. Iris felt him tremble beneath her.

“I couldn’t figure out what they were before.”

Apparently no longer in the mood for talking, he brought his mouth back to hers. Making his way down her body, he moved first to her neck, then her chest, and finally to her stomach, kissing her through the fabric of her dress. He stopped to look up at her, asking permission before moving any further and some small, far away part of her brain couldn’t help but think _perfect_. She nodded and he slid his hands up the outside of her thighs, to her sides, pushing the dress up as he went.

Half an awkward shimmy later and her dress was in a heap on the floor. Barry slowed down to look at her while his fingers twisted in the elastic of her underwear and she swallowed. This was real. His eyes, wild, yet still kind swept over her body — from head to toe and back again. He hesitated a second longer then brought his mouth to hers, kissing her with less urgency this time. She sighed into him and with each passing moment found it harder to remember why it was that she wasn’t supposed to be doing this. She started to question why she ever did anything other than kiss and touch him. Then his lips were no longer moving with hers. She chased after them, but paused looking back up at him. If she was doing this then it was going to be the best, worst decision she would ever make. 

Iris jumped off the counter and grabbed Barry’s hand, pulling him back into her bedroom and shutting the door behind them.


	5. Chapter 5

Iris woke up to a queasy stomach and an empty bed. _Maybe it was just a dream_. She sat up slowly, rubbing her temples as her headache set in. She looked over at the empty spot in her bed and, for a second, felt a wave of disappointment. Until she heard the toilet flush followed by the sink running. _Definitely not a dream_. Barry walked back into her bedroom jauntily, clearly not in the midst of his own apocalyptic hangover. He crossed the room wearing only his red boxers, which Iris suddenly remembered pulling off him the night before.

Barry got into bed and kissed her which, despite herself, she had to admit was just as good as she remembered.

“Morning,” he said in a husky voice. Iris became very aware of how little clothes she was wearing and hiked her comforter up higher.

“Yep…morning,” she squeaked out.

“Hey so I was thinking we could go get breakfast or something. I know this place with the best French toast and unbelievable coffee.”

Oh no.

“Barry, last night—”

He leaned closer to her, kissing her shoulder, “I know last night was pretty unbelievable, too.” He had a look in his eye that made her stomach flutter.

“Last night was a mistake,” the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could catch them. He instantly moved back.

“I mean it was good. It was really, _really_ good,” she shook her head, trying to get back on track. “But, Barry, I just got out of a relationship. I’m not looking for anything…complicated.”

His face was unreadable. Was he sad? Was he embarrassed? (God knows she was).

“Oh, right. Yeah. Yeah of course not.” She was surprised.

He got out of bed, picking up his clothes that were scattered around the room and redressing with as much dignity as someone in his place could possibly have. Even though his words were nonchalant he wouldn’t make eye contact. It was killing her.

“Okay. I guess I’m gonna get out of here then.” He still wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Barry, wait,” she was about to get out of bed then remembered she still wasn’t wearing clothes. He turned to face her.

“Last time you said that things got pretty...complicated,” he repeated her words, though saying it more to himself than to her. This poor man, she really had to stop breaking guy’s hearts in her bedroom. She should probably burn some sage. Iris watched him pull on his shirt without buttoning it and tried to think of something, anything, to say to him.

“Um, thanks for coming last night,” she squeezed her eyes tight, realizing how that might have sounded. “I didn’t mean it like...you know what I meant.”

He nodded solemnly. “Well, I should get out of your hair, let you get on with your day–”

“I think we should be friends,” she blurted out. Why had she felt compelled to say that to him mid kick-out? Despite the precarious situation, he was still a great guy, and maybe there was some scenario in which they got past all of…this. 

“Bye, Iris.” No see you later, no I’ll talk to you soon, he just walked out her door.

——

“And then she said, ‘last night was a mistake’,” Barry told Cisco as they sat in the park with Sam.

“No!” Cisco exclaimed, equally as shocked. “So what did you do?”

“What could I do? It was clear she was regretting it so I said I had to go and went home to shower, then came here.”

“Damn. That’s rough man,” Cisco said. “Isn’t that rough, Sammy?” He asked his year-old son in a baby voice.

Sammy, a man of few words, simply laughed at his own feet.

“Are you gonna see her again?” Cisco asked.

“I don’t know. She said she wants us to be friends. And, I mean, she’s incredible, man. I just...I don’t know.”

“Dude are you kidding me? Iris is the best,” he said casually, as though they might as well have been talking about the weather. He knelt down to fix his son’s hat. “Plus, you’re not exactly ready for someone like her yet.”

“What are you talking about?” Barry asked, nursing his black coffee. He wasn’t sure if the pounding headache was from the drinking or getting kicked out of bed. Probably both.

“Dude, you’ve said it yourself. When was the last time you were actually in a relationship? And you still haven’t cleared the air with Patty about…well whatever it is you guys had…or have. Point is: I won’t let you mess with this girl’s life because you don’t have your stuff together.”

Barry sat stunned in silence, absorbing everything Cisco had said, wanting to protest but not knowing what to say.

“We love you buddy,” Cisco continued, putting a hand on Barry’s shoulder, “but, honestly, Iris is too good for you right now.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be my friend?”

“Hey, don’t get testy with me. As your best friend it’s my job to give you the hard truths, today’s being that, at the moment, Iris is so out of your league she’s in another stratosphere.”

Cisco cleared his throat.

“So, are you gonna call her?”

——

“You SLEPT WITH HIM!?!? Are you kidding me!”

“It just happened! I tried REALLY hard not to!” Iris yelled back at Linda. Both of them were too hungover to be having a conversation this loud.

“Dude!”

“It’s not that bad! I told him it was a mistake.”

“You told him sleeping together was a mistake!?”

“Maybe…”

“Dude!”

“Can we _please_ stop yelling!?” Iris asked.

“Fine. Okay, well... how _do_ you feel?”

“Confused, mostly. Worried. Oh god, Lin, what if he never wants to see me again?” She sat down on the closed toilet seat in their bathroom, trying to push down the sudden wave of nausea.

“No. You know what it’s okay.” Linda said. Iris could see her gears turning as she continued, pacing back and forth across the black and white tile, her wet toothbrush still in hand. “Yeah, now if he doesn’t talk to you again you know he was a douche who only wanted to sleep with you.”

Iris tried to stay calm.

“Okay,” she said, a little panicky. “This is fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Iris, honey, breathe before you short circuit,” Linda warned.

“No, I’m good. I’ll just text him asking if he got home alright.” She said pulling out her phone.

“Whoa there,” Linda said yanking Iris’ phone away mid text.

“What?” Iris whined, getting annoyed.

“Girl, chill out. You literally kicked him out of bed this morning. Give him some time.”

“Okay. Okay, you’re right. I won’t text him.”

——

Iris waited for something to happen all day. At 11:30 she went out for a coffee to take her mind off her phone. At 1 she decided he was probably a jerk anyway, good riddance. At 3 she called herself from Linda’s phone to make sure it wasn’t broken. At 5 she decided exercise would do her some good and went out for a jog. At 5:15 she was back on her couch with a scrapped shin and no breath.

Walking around the apartment she found the business card he’d given her the night before, just next to where her dress still laid crumpled in a heap. She traced the name _Harry's,_ written out in a classic, gold font. Why was she this pressed? Sure, Barry was fun to be around, and she _thought_ he was nice, but at the end of the day he was just a guy. _Just a guy who made out with you on your kitchen counter then went down on you for half-an-hour_. No, no. The last thing Iris needed was complicated. She ditched her phone on the couch and reheated some leftovers for dinner.

The next two days were a cycle of obsess, move on, repeat. Though, the more she thought about it the more it made sense. Barry was great but the last thing she needed was to be emotionally responsible for another human being. Maybe if they met before…but before what? There were way too many shitty moments to choose from. Besides, he was way too goofy for her. As a friend yes, but she needed to be with someone more serious. That is, _when_ she decided she was ready for something at all. Still when her phone finally buzzed she dropped everything and dove for it.

_Barry_ 7:04 pm

> Hey

_Iris 7_ :04 pm

> Hi

> Did you make it home okay?

_Shit,_ she regretted it as soon as she sent it. It was awkward and too eager and she knew it was going to be weird. Her phone buzzed with his reply

_Barry 7_ :05 pm

> Yeah made it back safe and sound. But I did share a train car with a guy who had an iguana on a leash :P

She let out a deep sigh of relief. There was something endearing about him typing out a colon and a capital “P” rather than sending an emoji.

_Iris 7_ :05 pm

> Good

> I mean about getting home not about the lizard

> That’s weird.

Her phone was quiet for a while and she was worried she lost him again. But she didn’t want to push him. 

_Barry 7_ :10 pm

> I know this Italian bakery with great cannoli

> Wanna go in like an hour?

Iris was shocked. She was just trying to make conversation, definitely not expecting an invitation.

_Barry 7_ :10 pm

> *as friends

> I swear it’s the best I’ve ever had

Despite everything that happened in the past 72 hours she was weirdly not weirded out by it at all. This could work. They could be friends.

_Iris_ _7_ :10 pm

> Where should I meet you??


	6. Chapter 6

Things went on like that for the next couple of weeks. Barry would annoy her at work with ridiculous things the customers would say, which always made her laugh. It made him start to look forward to the lunch rush just so he could tell her about it. He imagined her reading his texts at her desk or in a meeting, fighting to stifle her infectious laugh. Occasionally he’d send her a quote from whatever book he’d picked up. She told him that Zora Neale Hurston made her want to be a writer, so that day he bought a copy of _Their Eyes Were Watching God_ just to feel a little like he was a part of her world.

She’d send him titles of the latest articles she was assigned, which they laughed about but he’d always go back later once they were posted and devour them. Iris was beyond talented. Even though she was stuck reporting on celebrity gossip and trending hashtags she poured herself into every word. They met up for friendly, yet flirty, dinners, or sometimes a movie (Barry quickly learned that he wasn’t allowed to whisper commentary during them but Iris was). A few times she, Linda, and Mari stopped by the bar for after work drinks. Iris even took him to Jitters and let him sit in her booth. They were settling into a good little routine. Things were easy with her.

Saturday morning they were texting about some horrible reality show she begged him to watch.

_Iris_ 11:00 am

>You’re lying if you say you don’t kind of love it !!!

_Barry_ 11:00 am

> I’m sorry but this show SUCKS

_Iris_

_ > _tHiS sHoW SuCkS

> COME ON

>It’s FUN to watch hot half naked idiots try to survive in the wilderness allwhile looking for love

_Barry_

> If you say so…

_Iris_

> I say so.

_Barry_

> Haha :D

> Hey what are you up to tomorrow around 6ish?

_Iris_

> Reheating some leftovers, nothing major

> Why what’s up???

_Barry_

_ > _I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to Cindy and Cisco’s for Sunday night dinner?

Barry took a deep breath. He knew she probably wouldn’t say no, but for some reason it still scared him to invite her. He never brought anyone with him over the years, not even Patty.

_Barry_

> You can finally meet the kid!!

_Iris_

_ > _I’d love to come to your family dinner Barry

He smiled down at the screen because without having to say anything she just…got it. Easy.

_Iris_

> OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M FINALLY MEETING SAM

> You better not embarrass me in front of him Bare

He stared as his phone, slightly confused.

_Barry_

_ > _Was that a typo?

_Iris_

_ > _Lol no

> Bare like short for Barry…

> Why? No good?

He thought it was little bit funny that she felt the need to nickname hisnickname — Barry short for Bartholomew. But it felt special. No one had called him that before and he liked the idea of Iris having a special Iris name for him.

_Barry_

_ > _No, I love it :)

> I’ll pick you up at 6

He let out a sigh of relief and got up to grab some chips while contestants crawled through containers of spiders on screen. Things were going great, maybe not exactly as he initially hoped they would, but better than he could have ever imagined. It felt like they’d known each other forever, and a few times he caught himself forgetting what his life was like before Iris. Obviously, he knew that they existed without the other for the better part of three decades, but it felt so natural that he didn’t have to think about it. Their relationship was becoming a constant in his life. There was breathing, there was blinking, and there was Iris.

He plopped back on the couch with his chips, waiting for the commercials to finish.

_Barry_ 11:09 am

> Btw how was your interview?

Last week, while they were eating at her favorite taco stand in the city, Iris mentioned she was thinking of applying for staff writer positions for a few more serious publications. When she first told him about wanting to leave Snub he had to hold back some of his excitement. She was a great white swimming in a puddle, and he couldn’t be happier to hear that she was finally recognizing it. In his humble opinion her byline deserved to be on the front page of every national newspaper, above the fold.He couldn’t have been prouder when she told him she had an interview lined up for _The_ _Sentinel._ He knew with every ounce of his being that she would be perfect for the job and assumed the interviewer would too.

By the time contestants were back on the screen and huddled around a campfire his phone still hadn’t buzzed with her response.

_Barry_ 11:15 am

> ???

_Iris_ 11:15 am

> It was stupid of me to think they’d actually want to hire me

> I don’t feel like talking about it

Her words broke his heart. Just a few days ago she was telling him all about her grand plans to leave behind fluff and entertainment writing and pursue her dream of investigative reporting. She was practically picking out the furniture for her corner office. He felt his anger rise at the thought of some callous editor telling her she wasn’t good enough, making her doubt herself like this. It just wouldn’t do.

_Barry_ 11:16 am

> We need to go to the beach

> Right now

_Iris_ 11:16 am

> What?

_Barry_

> You heard me

> This is nonnegotiable

_Iris_

> Bare I really appreciate it but I just feel like staying home and watching TV

_Barry_

> Iris please let me do this for you

He hit send and waited anxiously for her reply while stuffing a few chips in his mouth. He watched as the three dots came up, then disappeared again.

_Iris_

> Okay okay fine

> Where should I meet you?

He breathed out a sigh of relief then abandoned his snack to get ready.

——

Iris changed out of her pajamas into a white one piece and some cutoffs. She grabbed a baseball cap and her backpack and left her apartment at noon to meet Barry at the train stop. It was ridiculous, and she was still sad and upset with herself for ever believing she could’ve actually become a real reporter just like that. Until Barry said something she’d resigned to taking refuge in her room, too upset to even hangout with Linda, watching bad reality shows on her laptop while eating poptarts in bed (her sheets definitely needed to be changed but, eh, who had the energy for all that). Maybe a beach day was just what she needed to lift her from her funk. After all it was already the end of July and she hadn’t been once this summer.

She was waiting on the platform, debating if she should tell him she didn’t feel well after all and go back home, when she heard a set of flip-flops clopping down the steps. Barry emerged a second later with sunglasses (even though it was way to dark in the tunnel for him to possibly be able to see), a bucket hat, and toting a beach bag the size of a couch cushion over his shoulder. His face was already covered in white streaks of sunscreen that he hadn’t finished rubbing in. He had a searching expression on his face as he frantically looked around the platform. The sight of her friend in his most natural nerdy state put her at ease for the first time in a few days.

“What’s in the bag, pal?” She asked without saying hello.

He whipped his head around towards her and he relaxed from his meerkat posture.

“Wouldn’t you like to know. Are you ready for the best beach day ever?” His excitement was already exhausting.

“I guess. Why did you want to go to the beach so badly anyway?” His face plummeted. “What?”

“Are you kidding me? My sweet, sweet friend, your narrow mind can’t begin to fathom the almighty power of the beach day.” He rose his hand, dramatically clutching the air to emphasize the point. Nobody on the platform was even slightly phased by Barry’s theatrics. Iris crossed her arms and looked at him with one eyebrow cocked.

“Oh come on, Iris,” he said dropping his hands. “What’s not to like? Sand, water, snack stands…sounds like paradise to me. Not to mention my festive swim trunks that I wore just for you and my big ole beach bag.”

She looked down at his swim trunks covered in turtles wearing Santa hats and cracked a tiny smile because of course that’s something he would have.

The train pulled into the station. The doors slid open and he looked at her, the corners of his mouth tugging up.

“So what do you say?”

“Ugh, fine let’s go.”

He jammed a hand into the closing doors and ushered her into the car.

The closest beach was two transfers and an hour and a half away from the city, but Barry was prepared. He pulled out a pair of headphones, offered one earbud to Iris, and put on his beach day playlist. The upbeat music got them through the long, stuffy ride. As the train pulled into the last stop Barry grabbed Iris’ hand, excitedly pulling her all the way to the boardwalk.

“Barry slow down!”

“No, you speed up!”

They ran past the gift shops and food stands, bobbing and weaving their way past troves of clueless tourists.

It was annoying and she thought she was about to snap until she saw the ocean. It sounds silly, but she forgot how blue the water was, how good the salty, sunscreen-filled air smelled, how warm the sunshine could be. For once there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and it was hot, but not burning, even though it was the middle of July. The water expanded in a seemingly endless vast of waves, totally devoid of any signs of human life. Being there, away from the city, made everything slow down, like the world would just stay put for a second and she felt like she could actually breathe. They reached a cleared section of the boardwalk and he ran right up to the railing separating them from the sand.

“Ta da,” he said raising the hand not holding on to hers and gesturing to the view, as though the sand and the water were a surprise.

“Okay, we’re here. Let’s go find a place to sit,” she said as she began to walk over to the stairs.

“Not yet,” he tugged a little on her hand.

“Barry, what? Come on let’s just sit,” she said a little frustrated.

He flipped up the brim of his hat so he could see her better.

“Iris would you stop trying to rush this? It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

She took a deep breath and tried to regain some patience. After all he was trying really hard for her and that had to count for something. The least she could do was _try_ to meet him halfway.

“I’m sorry, Bare. I appreciate you wanting to cheer me up,” she told him squeezing his hand.

“That’s alright, I get it.” There wasn’t an ounce of frustration to be found on his freckled face and for that she was grateful.

“So, what first, oh wise one,” she dropped his hand to bow in front of him, emphasizing the title.

“See, now you’re getting it. First things first: ice cream cones.” He started to walk over to a booth covered in a pink and white striped awning with a rotating, plastic ice cream cone fixed to the roof. “One might think you save ice cream for the end but one would be wrong,” he said with all the wisdom of some great beach philosopher.

“Why’s that?”

“Good question, padawan. Because if you wait to get ice cream, then you’re all sandy and the risk of tainting the ice cream is infinitely higher. Also, I just really want a cone right now.”

They got in line for soft serve which Barry insisted on paying for and getting her extra rainbow sprinkles. They sat on the benches facing the water to eat them, Iris mindfully licking around the entire cone while Barry only licked from the top, letting chocolate ice cream melt down his hand like a five-year-old. Iris made fun of him, telling him for all his talk he had terrible strategy. They finished their treats and Barry pulled wet wipes from the enormous bag, clearly anticipating his chocolate covered hands.

“Alright, now to find the perfect spot. The key here being balance: not too close to the water, not too close to the boardwalk.” With a nod he grabbed his bag, put his sunglasses back on and led Iris down the sand.

Finally, he found a spot he was happy with, away from families with little kids, and just far enough from the boardwalk that they could no longer hear the cheesy pop music blaring from its speakers. Barry opened his bag and pulled out a bed sheet and a collapsable beach umbrella.

“Okay, Marry Poppins,” Iris said. The only things in her bag were her wallet, a towel, a comb, and some sunscreen — the essentials.

“I will never apologize for coming prepared,” he said in defense. He pulled off his t-shirt and spread more sunscreen across his chest, putting extra on his shoulder with the tattoos.

“They burn really easily,” he explained, noticing her watching him. He moved to his back, struggling to spread it evenly.

“Here, let me help,” she grabbed the bottle from him, filling in the spots he missed. She moved down to get his shoulder blades, again staring at the ink flowers wrapping around his arm, bleeding on to his chest. “Did they hurt?”

“Uh, kind of. I mean at first yeah, but you get used to the needle pretty quick,” his voice kind of squeaked out, clearly a little uncomfortable.

It wasn’t lost on her that the last time they were this close was the night of the party. She zoned out, thinking about it as memories of the two of them in the dark flashed across her mind, her hands still moving in circles on his back, even though the sunscreen was already rubbed in. Only the sound of him clearing his throat was enough to bring her back to the beach.

“Finished! You are good to go my friend,” she said stiffly patting him and turning her attention to her towel to hide her embarrassment. She put on her own sunscreen, suddenly coming to the awkward realization that she needed help from him too.

“Um,” she held up the bottle, averting her eyes, “do you mind?”

“Oh, uh, sure, of course.” She shuddered as soon as he put his hands on her and she almost died on the spot. After ten seconds that felt like an eternity he jumped away and shouted “done!” like he was being timed.

“Yeah thanks,” she said quietly, moving back to her own corner of the sheet. She drank from the water Barry pulled out of his bag for her, wishing she could swallow down the awkwardness along with it. “What now?”

“Now we go into the ocean. Better to do it first…besides you can go pee before you get settled.”

That effectively squashed any sexual tension in the air.

“Dude, that’s gross.”

“Oh what, Iris,” he said her name with extra emphasis, “you’re gonna sit there and tell me you’re too good to pee in the ocean?” He placed a final dab of sunblock on his nose and stood up. “That’s god’s toilet, baby.”

“You’re an idiot,” she told him, pulling off her shorts and stuffing them into her bag.

“I’ll race you,” he said with a bounce.

“Barry that’s so childish, I—” she pushed him back and took off sprinting towards the water.

“You cheater!” He yelled after her though she could hardly hear it amidst the wind blowing on her face and the surrounding beach raucous.

Iris dug her toes into the hot sand, running as fast as she could and dodging the sunbathers and the children building castles, careful not to fall in their moats. Her heavy steps gave way to shallow slaps against the wet sand as she leapt over the barrier of washed up seaweed upon finally reaching the shoreline.

“Hah! I win!” She called out to no one in particular as she slowed to a stop to catch her breath.

Her celebration lasted about two seconds before she felt herself lifted off the sand and tossed into the cold surf. For such a warm day the water was freezing. She landed in water just deep enough that for a brief moment she lost her sense of direction, scrambling to discern which way air was. The sand, she found, let out to a sudden drop, like a shelf, so that there wasn’t a steady decline into the ocean. She stood up and looked at Barry who had a huge, proud grin on his still dry, warm face.

“I can’t believe you did that!” She yelled to him over the waves with a shiver as she made her way towards him.

“It’s what cheaters get, cheater!” He was too busy laughing to notice that’d she scrambled back up out of the deep water or her jumping on his back to drag him down with her.

“Shit that’s cold!” He yelled when he surfaced, his normally fluffy hair laying flat against his head. Iris snickered at how small it made his head look.

“What you think this is funny?!” He splashed water at her.

“Yes I do!” She yelled back. She squealed as he launched himself to tackle her back in the water, going for her waist to pull her down with him rather than her shoulders to dunk her. They splashed around, annoying everyone around them trying to enjoy a nice swim. Soon they got used to the temperature and swam all the way out to the second post of the pier where they hung out for a while. She dared him to climb up the frame and jump, which he accepted. She sat on the slab of concrete supporting the pole and watched him climb ten feet up into the rafters. He cannonballed back down, soaking her with the splash, so she tackled him back into the water in retaliation. They went on like that for a while, eventually calming down enough to just lie back and float. 

Few feelings compare to floating on the gentle waves, lying in the sun, not a cloud in the perfectly blue sky. Being in the water she felt free. For the moment totally at peace. Unknowingly, the two spent hours aimlessly swimming around, hanging on each other below the surface until, finally, they dragged their exhausted bodies and pruned fingers up the beach, back to their stuff (which, miraculously, was all still accounted for).

She wrapped herself in her towel and moved out from under the shade of his umbrella. She tried her best to comb out her hair to arrange it in two French braids so it wouldn’t be completely unmanageable by the time it dried. Iris felt Barry watching her as her fingers moved nimbly through the thick, tight coils, so she stuck her tongue out at him. The end result wasn’t perfect but it was good enough. She put her hat back on and rolled up her damp towel into a makeshift pillow, wordlessly laying back on his outstretched legs. He only briefly looked up from his book (because of course he had one in that obscenely large bag) and she shut her eyes.

“What are you reading now?” Iris asked, eyes still closed.

“ _On Beauty_ , Zadie Smith.”

“Well go on then.”

“What?” He asked, slightly confused. She opened one eye and glanced at him. Despite all the sunblock he had put on, his face was a little red. 

“Read it to me.” He cracked a smile and obliged, picking up from where he left off.

“‘Up on the seventh floor of the Stegner Memorial Building, in an insufficiently heated room, Howard had just finished unpacking a projector…’”

She closed her eyes and resettled on his legs, listening to his voice. He was good at reading aloud: not too fast, not too slow, with a smooth, confident tone; none of that annoying sing song lilt. It gave her the feeling of being back in kindergarten, sitting around the teacher on the rug, happily listening to a fantastical story about some far away land. Everything was so simple: dragons were slain, damsels got saved, good always always always triumphed over evil…every problem so easily solved.

At some point Iris drifted off, only half listening to Barry, lying in the sun and dreaming of an underwater kingdom. She woke up a while later completely dried off, to the sound of seagulls. She sat up, still in the throes of a post nap haze, and looked back at him, his nose still in the book.

“How long was I asleep?” She asked.

“You were asleep?” Barry said without looking up.

“You’re annoying,” she said back with kindness, moving to grab her backpack.

“Well, I’m hungry. I think I’m gonna go to the Big Belly Burger stand and get us some chicken fingers and fries.” At the mention of food her stomach growled.

“Yes please.”

He grabbed his wallet and his shoes.

“Hold down the fort, chief,” he said turning to walk back to the boardwalk.

She watched his Santa turtles swish as he walked away. _What a man_ , she laughed to herself. Iris pulled out her phone to check the time. They’d been there for most of the afternoon. She scrolled through her inbox, checking all the emails she missed.

You know that feeling when you wish you could just go back in time two minutes? That about summed it up. Scrolling through dozens of emails from her editors informing her she was assigned more listicles, a few paparazzi photos of influencers, a Monday deadline for a follow up on another gossip story, emails from coworkers asking for advice and edits. She dropped the phone on the sheet, pulled her knees into her chest, and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. A tsunami of jagged feelings knocked her off her legs to drown her in reality. She willed herself not to cry, but the insubordinate, hot tears of frustration began to fall anyways. _Anger, sadness, fear, trapped, trapped, trapped…_

“Alright I have chicken tenders, I have fries, I have dipping sauces. Let’s eat.” Barry looked down at Iris and saw her in a ball. He dropped the box of food on to his towel and wrapped his arms around her. “Hey, hey it’s okay.”

She released her knees and wrapped her arms around his waist instead, burying her face in his sun-warmed chest. Taking deep breaths, she relaxed into the smell of his sunblock and his soothing hands against her back. Iris felt his cheek rest on the top of her head as he sat there holding her.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” he asked when her sobs quieted.

She moved away to show him her emails. As he scrolled, understanding dawned on his face.

“I hate my job,” she stated. “I hate writing those stupid articles, I hate my bosses, I hate the meetings, I hate my desk.” She put her face in her hands and let out a frustrated groan, hoping it would keep her from crying again.

She took a deep breath, “I just want things to change. So bad. But they can’t. They never will.”

“What do you mean?” Barry asked cautiously.

She took the phone back from him. Iris looked him over for a second. “I never went to _The Sentinel_ interview,” she said ashamed of herself.

Barry looked at her confused, then as though he were searching for what to say to that.

“I was all set to go, I got all the way down to the office but then…. I couldn’t go in. So I just waited outside until my slot was over,” she explained. “I just…I just couldn’t hear them tell me no.”

“You don’t know that they would’ve rejected you. You’re the most talented person I’ve ever met.”

“Stop, you don’t have to say that.”

“Iris it’s true. You’re incredible and I’m not just saying that. It’s a fact, and I know that any editor would see that, too. I know it. If you try again, I know that they’ll see what I see.” He was always so sweet.

“That doesn’t matter,” she said looking down. “I’ll never get hired to work for a paper like that.”

“Of course it does. Why would you ever think that?” he said still scanning her for some missing piece of information.

“Because, Barry, they’re not looking to hire a college dropout who’s only worked at one shitty website for seven years without getting promoted.” Iris said it into her knees, not wanting him to look at her. She braced herself for the patronizing sympathy, but it never came. He sat there looking her over, clearly unsure of what to do. The man with the plan was at a complete loss. They looked at each other in a kind of standoff until he put his arms around her again. She let him hold her, sighing into his embrace.

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other for a while, until she heard the crinkle of paper from the fry basket. She looked up to catch him mid reach and he froze like a deer in headlights.

“I know this is probably inappropriate but I’m starving.” And just like that they dissolved into laughter. She wiped away her tears and grabbed a chicken tender for herself.

They sat there eating everything in silence, which she was thankful for. The overly salty fast food helped to further calm her. Once all of it was gone he spoke up again.

“Why didn’t you finish school,” he asked her. Quickly adding, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

“It’s okay, Bare.” She took a breath fixing her gaze on her fingers, sifting through the sand. “The short answer is I left to follow a guy.” She again paused for his reaction, but his face was still filled with the same gentle concern. “It was stupid. Really, really stupid. It was actually during my last year, too. I started dating this guy, this musician, right after my mom passed away.”

On cue, Barry said, “I’m so sorry, Iris.”

And Iris answered, “It’s okay,” giving her automated, meaningless response. It wasn’t okay and it’d never be okay, but that’s what you’re supposed to say when someone says they’re sorry your mom died. It didn’t matter that “it was a long time ago” or that “at least she wasn’t in pain anymore”. One of the truths of the universe was that it was always going to suck that your mom got sick and didn’t get better. She took a steadying breath. But that wasn’t Barry’s fault.

“I was feeling so alone,” she continued, “and then he showed up and he made me feel like the center of the world. He made me feel like I mattered again.

“I was so in love with him — I mean this guy was _everything_ to me. But looking back on it, I’m not sure that he loved me. I mean, he said he did, but I don’t think he ever _really_ loved me. At least, not the way I loved him…. Anyways, he decided that he was gonna leave school to pursue his music and he told me to come with him. I told him I wasn’t sure, that it was only another semester before we graduated so why couldn’t he just wait.”

Her hand stalled and she swallowed before continuing, “I’ll never forget it, he looked at me in that way that made me feel like I was whole again and he said ‘if you really loved me you’d come with me.’” She felt the individual grains of sand slip through her fingers. “So I went.

“I didn’t even bother telling my dad, not that he would’ve cared.” She could tell Barry wanted to know more about that, but one earth shifting confession was enough for one day. “I packed up all my stuff, got in his car and we drove all the way here. We rented a room in the crappiest apartment with five other people. I got a job as a waitress and paid our rent while he ‘focused on his music’. A month in I caught him with his backup singer.” She felt the same lump in her throat that she felt all those years ago. “You wanna know what the really sad part is? I would’ve forgiven him. I really would’ve. But he left before I had the chance to. He was all I had and he left me alone in that stupid fucking apartment. God, I’m so stupid.”

“Hey,” Barry said, reminding her that he was still there, “you’re not stupid.”

Iris reached over to grab his hand. She looked into his earnest eyes and remembered that she was no longer that naïve twenty-year-old girl.

“Anyways, Snub was the first writing job I applied to that I got, so I took it, relieved to be writing at all. But now…” she trailed off, “I can’t do it anymore, Barry.”

Iris looked into his face. “What am I gonna do?” She asked quietly, fearfully, her eyes welling up once more.

He brought his hands to her cheeks and brushed away the tears.

“We’ll figure it out. I promise you we’ll figure it out,” he told her.

And she wanted to believe him, with every unbroken piece left inside.

She laid back against his chest, his arms encircling her, as they watched the small waves crash on the shore. Slowly, as the breeze picked up and the sky went orange and then pink, the beach began to clear out. Barry and Iris stayed until the lights on the pier came on. They packed up their things, Barry returning everything to his beach bag and pulling out his sweatshirt for Iris to put on over her swimsuit. They trekked up the sand, across the boardwalk (reincarnated with colorful lights and vibrant sounds from the carnival games), back up to the train platform, staying close to one another the whole way.

Even as they sat on the train headed back home to the city, they remained quiet, having grown exhausted of talking.

They stepped off at their last stop before parting ways to head to opposite ends of the city. Barry and Iris stood looking at each other then collapsed together for one last comforting embrace.

“I’m sorry the day didn’t go as well as I hoped,” he offered into her hair.

“No,” she said pulling her head back to look at him, “it was better. Thank you so much for today.” She brought him close again. “You have no idea what it means to me, Bare.”

He didn’t say anything, then “thank you for telling me your story, Iris,” squeezing her tighter.

“Thanks for listening,” she said to his chest. “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.”

He pulled away again with a mix of surprise and concern on his face.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, or if you’re not up for it. I mean I want you to come, you have no idea how badly I do! But, just that if it’s too much or you’re not up to it–” 

She grabbed his hand to cut off his nervous ramblings. “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner,” she repeated slowly.

“Okay. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”


	7. Chapter 7

Surprisingly she slept well that night, not waking up once. Though she was in the same position as before she couldn’t help but feel her confidence renewed. Maybe Barry was right. Maybe all we ever really needed in life was a good beach day to set us back on track.

She spent the next day drudging through her work, managing to get every soul sucking task done. With that out of the way she faced the new insurmountable challenge ofdeciding what to wear for dinner. Of course she met everyone (well, almost everyone) who’d be there before, but, judging by Barry’s texts, there was a little added pressure tonight. Barry was trusting her with something special — a part of him not everyone got to see. She was going to do everything in her power to make sure the night went exactly as he hoped, which is why she recruited Linda, who FaceTimed Mari, for backup. After gutting Iris and Linda’s closets, they all settled on a black camisole and a flowy skirt; she’d bring a jean jacket to dress it down but wear her hoops and heels in case it turned out to be a bit more formal.

As soon as Barry buzzed, she grabbed her purse, with a bottle of wine for the hosts inside it, and headed downstairs, with Linda calling out, “you’re beautiful, you’re a goddess, I love you, go,” behind her.

She opened the door of her building to Barry, standing there in his beat-up Chucks and a button down, holding a sunflower in one hand and fiddling with a pulled seam with the other.

“Hey,” he said as a smile spread across his face.

“Hi,” she returned, taking in the whole boyish charm thing he had going for him. “Is that for me?”

“Oh uh,” he looked down at the flower as if he was surprised he was holding anything, “yeah, yes. This is for you.”

He took a step forward and handed it to her.

“My first instinct was to get you irises but then I figured everyone must give her irises, and then I thought nobody really gives people sunflowers, and you know its summer, so I just picked it up from the supermarket on the way over here but now that I’m seeing it I’m not sure that–”

She took a half step forward grabbing his wrist, wanting to assure him that she was okay, that she wasn’t going to break today.

“Bare, I love it.”

He refocused on her and the easy smile came back to his face again. He looped their arms and turned in the direction of the train.

“And just for the record,” she said as they began to walk, “I love getting irises. They make me feel special.”

“Noted.”

——

A 45-minute train ride across the bridge later, they arrived at Cisco and

Cindy’s door (Barry informed her he referred to the couple as C2 out of earshot. Iris informed him that nickname was lame). Rather than knocking, Barry used the key he had to their apartment. As soon as it opened a wave of intense smells hit her nose; tomato sauce, garlic, onions, melted cheese, and, damn, was that pork? Neither she or Linda was particularly gifted in the kitchen, so it’d been a while since Iris had sat down to a proper home cooked meal.

“To add to how annoyingly perfect they are, they’re also both amazing chefs,” Barry said over her growling stomach.

He offered to take her things, hanging the jacket in the coat closet and placing the purse and her flower on the chair by the door. There were pictures everywhere; most of Sammy, a couple with Barry. She stopped in front of one of him and Cisco hanging on the wall. Both of them were carrying backpacks and they couldn’t have been more than twelve. Cisco had asymmetrical side bangs and sweet, pre-growth-spurt Barry smiled hard at the camera from beneath a bowl cut. They were still the same height and both boys wore matching _Commander Carl_ t-shirts. It was without a doubt the cutest thing in the world. Just as she considered taking a picture with her phone, Iris felt 28-year-old Barry come up behind her.

“You grew into your ears,” she said without turning back.

He stepped closer to her, leaning his hand against the wall, sort of trapping her, as he looked closer at the picture.

“They weren’t _that_ big,” he said resting his chin down on her shoulder.

She brought a hand to his scruffy cheek and gave him two light pats.

“Whatever you say, Dumbo.”

“Is this a home invasion?” Cisco yelled from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

“Yes, bring us all your valuables!” Barry shouted back.

“We’re in the kitchen!” Cindy yelled.

Iris grabbed the bottle of wine then he took her hand, leading her down the hall to the source of the smell.

“Jokes on you guys, we’re broke,” Cindy deadpanned without taking her attention from stirring something on the stove.

“Iris! You’re here! And you brought us alcohol!” Cisco said with excitement while taking, _oh my god was that garlic bread_ , out of the oven. She was relieved she wore the skirt with the elastic waistband instead of the side zipper.

“Yeah, thank you both for having me. Oh, by the way, Cisco, I listened to that Rolling Stones song. Not bad.”

“Ha! ‘Not bad’ she says. Girl, I am so making you a mixtape. Prepare to have your mind blown.”

“Bring it,” she said back.

“You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed,” Cynthia said as she passed by carrying a bowl of meatballs smothered in a thick red sauce. “We were so happy when Barry told us you could make it, we’ve been begging him to invite you over.”

“Guys we’ve been over this: you can’t come on too strong or else you’ll scare off our victims, I mean dinner guests,” he joked, stealing a few croutons from the salad to snack on. Iris rolled her eyes at him, holding her hand out for some.

“Y’all better not be eating those croutons!” Cindy called from the other side of the wall.

Cisco walked between Iris and Barry, lowering his voice.

“You know how people say that moms have eyes in the back of their heads? I’m pretty sure my wife has an army of magic tattle elves that report back to her.” He said it dead serious, maintaining eye contact with Iris as he reached for a crouton.

“Cisco I swear to god!”

He pulled his hand back, “see?” Cisco walked to the swinging door, saying “we’re happy you’re here Iris,” and giving Barry a look before joining Cindy in the dining room.

Iris realized the three of them must’ve been talking about this for a while, and it again hit her how important this must be to him. She looked back at Barry, holding up the wall with all 6’3” of him.

“What? Do I have crumbs?” He reached his hand up to his face, self-consciously wiping. 

“No, nothing. Just happy to be here.”

He dropped his hand and his mouth spread to a heart melting smile.

The door swung open again as their hosts walked through.

Iris kept her eyes locked on Barry, asking, “Can I help with anything?”

“If you want, you can take the water pitcher out of the fridge,” Cisco said.

“Barry, could you set the table,” Cindy instructed, more than asked, in a matronly tone.

“You got it, chief,” he said saluting though rolled his eyes in Iris’ direction.

“I saw that, Barry,” she fired without missing a beat. Maybe Cisco was on to something with his tattle elf theory.

Upon finishing their tasks, Iris looked up to find Barry staring at her, rocking on the balls of his feet with anticipation.

“What?” She asked, smiling back at the goofy grin on his face.

“Are you ready?” He asked her, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Ready for– ” she stopped mid question realizing what he meant.

“Wow,” she restarted. “Is it weird that I’m sweating?”

Barry laughed at her.

“Nah, this is a big moment. It’s called for.”

He motioned for her to follow him to the end of the hallway. He stopped at the end and opened the door slowly.

“Hey, Sammy, I have someone really special I want you to meet.”

Barry moved out of the way and Iris saw the most precious, little brown bundle of rolls.

“Iris West, meet Samuel Reynolds-Ramon.” He pronounced it Sam-well. “Sam meet my good friend Iris.”

“Oh my god,” she said as she carefully approached his crib. “It’s an honor to meet you Sam, I’ve heard a lot about you,” she told the baby as she offered him her finger.

Iris stood in awe of Sam for a few moments before Barry gave him a big kiss and scooped him up. Barry held Sam close as he bounced him slightly, asking him to say “Barry” and “Iris” to no avail.

“You wanna hold him?” Barry asked after a minute.

“Really? You think I’m ready?” she asked, totally serious.

“We both have complete and utter confidence in you. Right, Sammy?”

Barry leaned towards her, carefully transferring Sam to Iris.

“You got him?” he asked, waiting for her “yeah” before taking his hands away.

“Hey there, Sammy,” Iris said again, feeling nothing but pure happiness as she positioned him high on her hip. Sam smiled right back at her, slobbering a little bit as he bared his new but few teeth, proudly showing them off to Iris.

Just then Cisco came in, “oh I get it. You guys didn’t come here to see us. You came to mooch off the embodiment of brown joy that is my son.” Iris passed the embodiment of brown joy in question off to his father. Somehow Sam’s face lit up even more once he was in his dad’s arms.

“Well,” Cisco said, holding him up to blow a raspberry into his tummy causing the happiest giggle imaginable,“I can’t really blame you for that.”

Iris had never seen a squishier baby that radiated as much goodness as little Sam did. If anything, Barry undersold him.

The four of them walked back into the dining room.

“Ah, I see you’ve met the boss,” Cynthia said to Iris as they finally sat down for dinner.

“Barry introduced us,” she said back, earning a warm smile from him.

“Well let’s eat, people,” Cynthia said.

——

Dinner went better than Barry could’ve hoped. Not that he ever doubted Iris, everyone loved her and she was always perfect. He did, however, wonder whether C2 would be able to go the night without totally embarrassing him. There was a moment when Cisco tried to bring out their 8th grade year book — filled with pictures from a moment in time when Barry simultaneously hit puberty and got super into anime — but he was able to dodge that bullet by asking about dessert. Well, at least until Cindy said she could just text the pictures to Iris. 

After they finished eating, Cisco took Sam for his bath while the rest of them cleaned up. The kid couldn’t take his eyes off Iris the entire night, but then again neither could Barry. Sam made one final appearance in his ducky pajamas before bed which, he had to admit, briefly made Iris the second cutest thing in the room.

“Could I tuck the kid in tonight?” The words had just left his mouth when Cisco handed the little nugget off to his godfather and Cindy plopped on the couch with a glass of wine.

“He’s all yours.”

He hugged Sam close to his chest and walked him back down the hall to his room.

“What’d you think of my pal Iris?” He asked when they were alone.

A sleepy smile spread across his face and he nuzzled into Barry.

“Yeah. I think she’s pretty great too, kid.” He rubbed his back and gave him one last kiss before laying him down in his crib.

“Love you, Sam,” he whispered. He turned on the lamp in the corner and a projection of rotating stars and planets lit the room in a soft purple glow.

Barry shut the door quietly and walked back down the hall. He leaned against the wall, watching his two best friends in the world talking with Iris. Cindy had a hand over her mouth, trying not to spit out her drink while Iris wiped a tear from the corner of her eye from laughing too hard. A weight lifted from his chest. Tonight confirmed what Barry had been hoping for weeks: she fit with them. Iris could hold her own in the small group of big personalities, sure, but it was more than that. From everything that he’d seen Iris was just as comfortable with them as they were with her.Before he could get too lost in thought, she found his eyes and beckoned him over to join them. Unasked, Cisco broke out his classic vinyl collection. Barry and Cindy relentlessly made fun of him every time he said something about the sound quality.

“He just thinks they make him look cool,” Cindy said to Iris, pouring her another glass of wine.

“They so do,” he said to his wife.

“Baby, take it from someone who loves you with all of her heart,” she paused, getting in his face, “they so don’t,” and gave him a peck.

They ended the night with a fierce game of scrabble, with Iris upsetting their usual outcome by beating Barry for first place. It was past midnight when they said their goodbyes and even though he was only 15 minutes from home, Barry decided to ride back the 35 with Iris to her apartment.

“Sammy’s pretty great,” Iris told him once the train cleared out enough that they could find a couple seats together.

“Yeah,” he played with the stalk of Iris’ sunflower, “I’m kinda crazy about him.”

He felt like she was seeing right through him with her golden-brown stare, though it didn’t scare him. It made him feel safer, like he could tell her the sky was falling and she’d just take his word for it.

“It’s weird,” he blurted out.

She scrunched her eyebrows at him, “what do you mean?”

“Well, to tell you the truth I wasn’t always the kid’s biggest fan.”

“No!”

“It’s true. When they told me they were having a baby I was kind of…apathetic, I guess.”

Her gaze encouraged him to keep going.

“It had always been the three of us. Even after they got married it was still the three musketeers, Charlie’s Angels, Snap, Crackle, and Pop. And then all of a sudden it wasn’t.”

“I know what you mean. When I found out I was getting a little brother I tried to convince my parents to exchange him for a puppy.”

He laughed at the image of Iris as a kid trying to reason with her parents to trade her infant brother in for a dog. Knowing her, she probably came up with some pretty compelling points.

“Right…” he looked off out the window, watching as a train sped by in the opposite direction. “You know, when Cindy was giving birth, the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. Thankfully, the doctors were able to get to him in time and he was born without any immediate complications. But they said that it could cause some developmental or social issues down the road…,” he trailed off.

He was still staring out the window when he felt Iris’ hand wrap around his, bringing his attention back to her.

“You try to put it in perspective, you know? I mean you look at him now and he’s just—”

“‘The embodiment of brown joy’?”

Barry squeezed her hand. “Exactly. No matter what, that kid’s gonna grow up knowing he’s got all our hearts on a string.”

She gave him a firm, encouraging nod. “Yes. He is.”

They talked and laughed about the night a while longer before slipping into a comfortable silence, sitting knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder, fingers still intertwined. He walked her from the stop, inside her building, right up to her door.

“Thanks for letting me come along tonight,” Iris told him as she nudged into his side, sunflower still in hand.

“Are you kidding, I think all three of them would rather have you come over than me.”

She laughed at that, pushing her key into the door.

“Seriously though,” she said, leaving it in the lock to face him, “I know tonight meant a lot to you and I want you to know it meant a lot to me too, Bare.” She grabbed his hand with her free one.

He looked down at Iris, standing in front of her door, having no right to look so beautiful. The woman came to his family dinner and got along with Cisco and Cindy — Sam was even in love with her! And the look in those eyes, those endless brown eyes, as she held his hand and called him Bare in a voice that sounded like lavender honey. He wanted nothing more than to be in this moment with her but he was too caught up in the fantasy playing out in his head. He wanted to look at her how he wanted, appreciating every curve. To kiss her hard against her front door and all the way back to her room. To lay her down in the bed he’d already been in. To feel how soft her lips were, to run his hands up her skirt along her smooth thighs and put his mouth on her neck on that spot he knows would make her say his name. And he felt like she would let him, too. But all that was pushed out. All he could hear were Cisco’s words echoing in his head. _Iris is too good for you_ …

It took all the strength he had but he bit his tongue and ran his thumb across her knuckles, leaned down to kiss her softly on the cheek — lingering there perhaps a second too long and pulling away as slowly as he could get away with.

“Goodnight, Iris”, he said with a weak smile before turning around and getting on the elevator.


	8. Chapter 8

Iris knew Barry hadn’t done anything wrong. He was a gentleman, and it was a perfect end to a perfect night. But still, she couldn’t fight the feelings of disappointment that grew from the pit of her stomach as she watched the elevator doors slide closed. Even the next day, as she sat in her desk chair staring at her blank computer screen instead of researching the Top 10 Best Vegan Food Festivals in the Tri-State Area, she couldn’t shake it. She couldn’t bring herself to text Barry, even though the only thing in the world she wanted to do was laugh with him about her stupid article.

Instead she decided to text her group chat for advice.

_Mari_ 1:10pm

> I don’t think I totally know what’s wrong…

_Iris_

> ME EITHER!!

> Why am I upset!?

> I shouldn’t be upset!!

_Linda_

> Dude, are you serious?

_Iris_

> What?!

_Linda_

> You’ve completely fallen for Mumford & Sons

_Mari_

> OH MY GOD

> SHE’S SO RIGHT

_Iris_

> No guys we’re just friends. We all decided we were just gonna be friends

> Besides I don’t think he’s interested in me

> Otherwise why would he have left last night?

_Mari_

> Well it was a Sunday….

> And you did have work today…

_Linda_

> ^^^

_Iris_

> I mean I guess??

> I don’t know you guys weren’t there

> It was intense

_Linda_

> Iris you beautiful idiot

> Dude is DEFINITELY balls deep in love with you

_Iris_

> DUDE

_Mari_

> Maybe he doesn’t think you’re ready for a relationship?

_Iris_

> What?

> That’s ridiculous

_Linda_

> I mean, are you? Are you even really sure what you want?

She sat back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling. At first she couldn’t handlebeing with Barry. Now she was realizing she couldn’t handle being without him. If they jumped into something she knew there’d inevitably come day when they would have to part. She wasn’t sure that she was willing to risk their friendship for something she couldn’t even clearly define in her own head.

_Iris_

> I don’t know

——

“Thanks for coming by. I just really felt like we needed to talk.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Barry moved aside, letting Patty into his apartment.

After he walked away from Iris earlier that week, he couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with Cisco. If there was even a chance they were ever going to really work, he had to clear the air with Patty. He stopped himself from texting Iris in between— he knew it wasn’t fair to keep on the way they had been without sorting out his own stuff first. Besides, he figured both of them could probably use a bit of breathing room to decompress from the weekend. Instead he refocused his energy on work, deciding to make his way through his to do list. He restocked the bar, finally fixed the flickering light in the bathroom, rearranged the seating area in the back — all the things he kept saying he would get to “later”.

After running out of tasks, he decided Friday was the day. He asked Patty to come over after work to talk and she agreed.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while. I thought you might’ve fled the country,” Patty said with a coy smile.

“Just work stuff. You know how it is,” Barry said over his shoulder, getting two beers out of the fridge.

“I do know how it is,” she said taking one from him as he came to sit with her on the couch. He had to talk to her before he lost his nerve.

“Patty,” he said, looking down at the floor, “what have we been doing?”

Usually the cool collected one, she was stumped.

“I mean,” Barry specified, “do we mean anything to each other?” He looked up from the floor straight at her.

“Of course we do, Barry. We’re friends. We’ve always been friends,” she said in a soft voice. “Where is all this coming from? Why are you asking me this?”

“I’ve just been trying to figure things out lately. I care about you, Patty” he told her.

She scooted closer, putting a hand on his thigh, “I care about you too.”

“I met someone,” Barry said quickly, awkwardly.

She pulled away as though she’d been burned.

“Oh,” she curled the hand around her beer.

“I just want to be honest with you, Patty,” Barry told her, shifting his body to face her. He took a deep breath, “you’re so great and I wish it worked with us. But it doesn’t. Right? I mean, I can’t be the only one who feels like something’s missing.”

She was quiet for a while, collecting her thoughts.

“Please say something.”

“I’m not mad, Barry.”

He looked up from his hands at her.

“You’re right. I mean, I really like you but we both know this isn’t right. Just comfortable,” she told him, staring off into the distance.After a moment she continued, “I kinda feel like we’re the lab rats that keep going for the cheese even though we know we’re gonna get zapped.”

They both laughed at her bad analogy.

“We’re gonna be okay, Barry,” she said resting a hand on his knee, this time without either of them pulling away. Another moment of silence passed. “One day we’ll find people worth getting hurt for.”

He covered her hand with his.

“I hope you’re right,” he said, unsure of what the future held. “Do you want another one?” He asked after finishing the last of his beer.

“Sure,” she said as he moved to the fridge. “You know, when you called I figured you’d want to talk about Malcolm’s wedding. It’s only a couple weeks away, right? Or did you pull a Barry and totally space?”

_Fuck._ His older brother was getting married in two weeks and he’d managed to forget. He’d gotten the invitation months ago, before he met Iris, when Patty and Barry were on again.

Cindy convinced him to go, insisting that one day he’d regret it. Maybe it was her words, maybe it was the guilt of keeping his distance from his family, but he reluctantly sent in his RSVP — opting for a plus one with the intention of bringing Patty as his date. The thought of putting on the happy son/supportive brother act, even if it was just for a weekend, made him sick to his stomach.

“So you did pull a Barry, then” Patty said, bringing him from his thoughts.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said with a humorless laugh, taking a long sip from his second beer. “I think I might need something a little stronger.”

——

It’d been almost a week and a half since Iris had spoken to Barry when she got a text from him inviting her and Linda to his birthday party. His exact words were, “casual birthday thing with some friends at my apartment” and he promised cake and beer. She still felt weird from the last time they saw each other, which was only amplified by her realization that this had been the longest they’d gone without talking since they first met nearly two months ago. Weirdness aside, there was no way she could ever justify missing his birthday “thing”. She responded saying that she and Linda would absolutely be there.

So that’s how she found herself, carrying a gift bag reading “over the hill”, Linda in tow, knocking on his door on Saturday night.

“What’d you get him?” Linda asked her, trying to peak into the bag while they waited for someone to let them in.

“Oh it’s, it’s pretty lame—”

“Rainbow girl!” A drunk Cisco threw open the door before Iris could answer. “Hey everybody look it’s my friend and another girl!”

Linda raised her eyebrows at her, looking for an explanation while Iris laughed.

“Cisco this is my best friend Linda,” she offered once she caught enough of her breath.

“Hi. I think we might’ve met at our part—” she stopped as Cisco pulled her into a hug.

“I don’t know you, other girl, but any friend of Rainbow’s is a friend,” he hiccuped, “is a friend of mine.”

“Alrighty then,” Linda said breaking away. “I’m gonna go find the alcohol.”

“Cisco where’s Cindy?” Iris asked him, thinking it was weird that his wife wasn’t by his side.

He put on an exaggerated frown. “Sam had a little cough so she stayed home with him.” He started picking at a crack in the paint on the door, “I just love my fa—” another hiccup, “family so much.”

“I know you do buddy,” Iris said trying not to laugh at him.

“Well get in here! It’s a party,” he said and just as quickly as he came, he bounced away.

This was the first time Iris had seen Barry’s apartment. It was so him: a little nerdy, a little hipster, all around surprisingly well put together. It had tall ceilings and exposed brick on the walls with well cared for potted plants dotting the room. Straight ahead from the front door the wall was covered in tall, paned windows; to the right was his kitchen, neat and tidy; and around the corner was a hallway, two doors on either side, one door at the end, which she figured was his bedroom (there was a small part of her that just knew he still had _Commander Carl_ bed sheets).

Framed posters and sketches hung on the walls and in the corner she noticed a few skateboards, each a unique color, shape, and size, all neatly arranged (she was unsure if he just collected or if he actually used them). The large open space was divided into a few smaller sections by tables, a couch, a love seat, a few rugs, and armchairs all matching the style of the ones in the bar — she wondered if he’d been responsible for decorating both. Next to his coat rack by the door was a framed sketch of the logo for Harry's signed by Cisco, but other than that, he didn’t really have that much personal stuff; it could’ve been anyone’s home. It was a sharp contrast to her and Linda’s much smaller, cozier apartment which was filled with photos, DIY things, throw blankets, pillows, and various tchotchkes they collected over the years.

There weren’t too many people, maybe about twenty, all scattered around the room in groups, listening to the not-too-loud indie rock and sipping wine and beer. The whole thing felt unexpectedly adult for Barry. She walked over to the drink table where, no surprise, Linda had already struck up a flirty conversation with a pretty woman wearing a hijab who had the most flawless eye makeup she had ever seen. That meant Iris was flying solo, apparently, which was fine. Why wouldn’t it be fine? _Because things have been weird since last time_. No, nope. She was going to get her brain to shut up for once and she was going to enjoy her good _friend’s_ causal birthday thing. Step one, get a glass of wine and a handful of pretzels. Step two (well, more like two and half after stealthily getting the pretzel crumbs out from between her boobs) go find Barry. 

Iris scanned the room and found him standing at his kitchen island, drinking a beer with a few people she recognized from the bar. He was wearing possibly the tackiest t-shirt which read “this guy is the birthday boy” in big block letters under a drawing of two thumbs pointed up towards his face, all framed by multicolored, clipart balloons. Whatever weariness she felt was replaced with a tugging in her chest because the world’s worst t-shirt was perfect on him. He turned from his friends and immediately found her eyes. A tinge of panic crept up as Iris watched Barry excuse himself from the group a second after and make his way across the room over to her. She downed the rest of her wine and commanded herself to be cool.

“You’re here,” he said, wrapping his arms around her in greeting. She had to consciously remind herself not to put her face in his neck because friends don’t smell friend’s necks.

Iris pulled back first. “Of course I’m here. Linda is also around here somewhere but I doubt I’ll be seeing much of her tonight.” She noticed the confused look on his face. “Never mind.”

“How are you? I feel like we haven’t talked in a long time.”

“It hasn’t even been two weeks,” she said quickly, slightly defensive. Was it weird that she said how long it’d been? Was it weird that she knew?

He stared at her for a second, looking like he wasn’t quite sure what to say. He opened his mouth then closed it again, finally sipping from his beer. Iris tried to look anywhere but him.

“Iris, I—”

“Bare, lo—” they both said at the same time. They chuckled and both yielded but neither of them continued right away.

“I wanna show you something,” he said after another beat, motioning his head over his shoulder.

“Uh, okay,” she followed him with some hesitation. 

“Ladies first,” he opened the window and helped her step out on to his fire escape. The landing was small but he had a couple of cushions out there so it was comfy. She sat down and waited for him to join her.

“This is my favorite place in my apartment. I use it to spy on people standing outside the bar,” he said, shutting the window halfway so that some of the noise from inside was muted.He sat only an inch or two away from her and she could feel her heart beat a little faster. 

“What a perv,” she joked, though she felt like it didn’t match the cadence of their normal banter. _Why would you say that?_

“Ha ha very funny,” he deadpanned back, calming her a little. He took a sip from his beer and stared at the apartment building across the street. Through the lit windows she could see different scenes of strangers in their homes: some watching TV, some getting ready for bed, others getting ready to go out.

“I saw you from up here that night you came back to get your credit card.” Even though it had barely been two months, that night felt like a lifetime ago to Iris. Though, in reality, the only thing that had changed about her was him.

“I remember you had just come from your office so you were still wearing work clothes,” he looked down to his hands where he was fiddling with the neck of the bottle. “I remember thinking how pretty you looked.”

Her face felt hot and she looked away as she tried to ignore the butterfly feeling in her stomach. They let it get quiet again, listening to his friends talking and laughing inside and the cars driving past on the street below.

“I got you a birthday present,” she finally thought to say, remembering the bag resting next to her.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat and put his beer down beside him, “you didn’t have to do that.”

Iris passed it to him, “I know. It’s just something stupid.” She felt regret as soon as he reached down past the tissue paper.

She watched him pull the white teddy bear wearing a red flannel out of the bag and look it over with an unreadable expression.

“It’s Bear-y…Get it? Because, um, because your my— or, uh, because I call you Bare…” It seemed a lot funnier that afternoon when she walked by the Build-a-Bear in Midtown, but now all she could think was that it was weird to get a grown man a teddy bear for his twenty-ninth birthday. “It’s cheesy,” she said to her feet.

“This is…the coolest thing ever!” She looked up at him staring down at Bear-y with wonder. “It’s me!” Relief slowly spread through her.

“You really like him?”

“Are you kidding me? Cisco made me friendship coupons for the nineteenth year in a row. This is so sweet, Iris.” He turned the bear over in his hands inspecting it. “I love him. Thank you.” He reached over to put an arm around her.

For the first time in a couple of weeks everything finally felt normal. Being here, with Barry (and Bear-y) felt good, like none of her pieces were missing. She moved closer, resting her head on his shoulder as they both looked at the bear. He smelled like clean laundry and newspapers.

“I’m not that pale, am I?” he asked.

“Hate to break it to you Casper…” she said while he ducked his head to her hair and laughed.

“Hey! Birthday boy!” Cisco called, sticking his head out the window searching for Barry and noticing Iris there too, “aw man and my girl Rainbow! Wassup?! Y’all are the best!”

“What’s up man?” Barry said breaking away from her. She missed his closeness more than she was willing to admit.

“Oh right! Birthday buddy it is time for some shots!” he yelled, shooting finger guns at Barry.

“Okay just give me a second—”

“Birthday shots have to be done right at 9:47pm for them to be real birthday shots! So get your narrow behind in here so you don’t ruin birthday tradition!”

Barry gave Iris an apologetic look.

“You heard him, get your narrow behind in there, birthday boy,” she said quietly but with a smile.

He gave her a nod and put Bear-y back in the bag to take inside.

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back,” he told her.

She watched him scramble back over the windowsill, falling in the process, then turning back quickly to flash an embarrassed smiled at her. As soon as he was gone she rested her head against the brick wall, trying to catch her breath. She felt like she was going to explode. Iris kept replaying the last few minutes over in her head. He called her pretty. The memory brought an involuntary smile to her face. Barry called her pretty. All of the fog cleared and she knew with absolute certainty from deep in her gut that she needed to be with him, that her life made the most sense when Barry Allen was in it. She couldn’t ignore her feelings for him anymore. It was clear that they weren’t going anywhere. Now all there was left to do was to swallow her pride and share these feelings with him. These enormous, clunky, heart-stopping feelings that would forever alter their relationship. _Fuck me_.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard someone climb through the window. She looked up from her knees hoping it was Barry coming back. Instead a woman appeared with a wobble.

“Oh. Hi!” She said brightly, her voice hinting that she’d had a couple of drinks. “Sorry, I was looking for Barry.” Her cheeks were a little flushed and she brushed her blonde hair out of her blue-gray eyes. She was pretty.

“You actually just missed him, he went inside with Cisco,” Iris offered back, shaking off the brief sense of disappointment.

The woman looked down at her watch, “shot time already?” She looked back up at Iris.

The woman looked back through the window into the apartment.

“Birthday parties have started to make me feel so old. And it’s not even some deep universe thing, it’s literally that I don’t have the patience to hang out with my friend’s friends — who I don’t know, no offense — and pretend that I want to stay out later than 10 anymore,” she said with an exaggerated look of exhaustion.

“None taken,” Iris laughed in agreement. “I know, who decided that parties shouldn’t start until 9?”

“Exactly! Listen, if it were up to me every party would start at 7, go until 9, and everyone’s at home watching the late show by 10!”

“God that sounds nice,” Iris said. She was glad to have found someone to talk to now that Linda was otherwise occupied and Cisco stole Barry away.

“I’m Patty, by the way,” she said with a warm smile.

“Iris,” she offered back.

“How do you know the birthday boy?” Patty asked, sitting on the steep staircase leading to the platform above them.

“Uh…from the bar,” Iris answered, thinking back to their last conversation. _He really called me pretty._ She remembered the woman sitting in front of her and composed herself, rushing on to add, “but we’re just friends. What about you?”

“Oh, uh,” Patty looked down, an almost embarrassed smile forming. Her eyebrows pinched together slightly as she collected the words. “I guess you could say we used to date. Kinda?”

The words knocked the air out of her. What did “kinda used to date” mean? Judging by that smile she still had something for him and considering she was there at all they were obviously still close.

“Barry’s a really good guy,” Patty said, watching as he and Cisco drank, a crowd around them. What if Patty and Barry were still dating when they first met? What if he was still with Patty the night of her party? 

“He’s the best,” Iris agreed, an uneasiness clamping down tight around her stomach like a vice.

She wanted to ask Patty about their relationship, if a second later she didn’t excuse herself to use the restroom. Iris looked at Barry through the glass again, his face pinched in laughter. What else didn’t she know about him?

Iris went back through the window into the party, looking for Linda. Maybe Patty’s smile didn’t mean anything. Maybe it was a long time ago and they stayed friends, and Barry was still good. There was Linda standing awfully close to the same woman from the drink table, her fingers playing with the zipper on the woman’s jacket. _Damn she has game_. She watched the flirting continue until she felt her phone buzzing in her pocket.

9:50 _Incoming Call_

Putting down her drink she walked briskly down the hallway as she answered the phone.

“One second,” she said, still searching for someplace quiet to talk. She twisted the handle of the door on the left but it was locked. The door across the hall opened and she went in, shutting it behind her. She flipped on the lights to see she was standing in a laundry closet. _Where the hell is he getting the money to live alone in this massive apartment with its own washer and dryer?_

“Wally?” She asked when she brought the phone back to her ear.

“Hey sis,” her little brother answered. “Where are you? It sounds loud.”

“I’m at a friend’s birthday party. What’s wrong, is everything okay?”

It wasn’t strange for her brother to be calling, they talked fairly often — usually when he was trying to procrastinate doing his problem sets or when he was walking to the bus home from his job at the auto shop. 

“Dude chill out. Why does there have to be something wrong for a guy to want to talk to his favorite sibling?”

“I’m your only sibling.”

“All the more reason why it’s true.”

“Wally,” she said in the warning, big sister tone she’d spent a lifetime perfecting.

There was silence on his end and then one of his trademark, Big News sighs.

“Jacques asked me to move in with him,” he waited for her reaction to the news that his first boyfriend, of almost a year, asked Wally to move in with him while they were both still in school.

“Oh,” Iris said unable to keep the worry out of her voice. She met Jacques in April when she had gone to visit Wally at school. He was an incredibly sweet boy and not at all bad looking. Jacques was just as tall as her brother (who had, selfishly, used up all of the height genes in the West family), with dark brown skin and a crooked smile he was dangerously cute, and not to mention he worshiped the ground Wally walked on — it was no wonder her little brother fell for him. But the thought of her brother living with someone, even someone as amazing as Jacques, while he was still in school left a bad taste in her mouth.

“What, Iris?” he asked with annoyance. She could hear the disappointment in his voice.

“Nothing. That’s…that’s great. I’m really happy for you guys.” She was almost able to keep her teeth clamped firmly down on her tongue, almost able to end her comments there but her big sister instincts got the better of her. “It’s just don’t you think you guys are moving a little too fast?”

“I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t approve, Iris!” His familiar temper was heating up.

“If mom were here she’d be telling you the same thing I am.”

“Yeah, well mom’s not here, is she?”

She took a breath. “Wally, listen to me: you’re only 22. What’s the rush? You have your whole life ahead of you to figure it out.”

“He loves me and I love him. What’s there to figure out?”

“I know but—”

“I’m not YOU Iris!” He yelled, cutting her off. “I’m not gonna ruin my life for someone who doesn’t give a fuck about me! That was you Iris! Not me.” They both fell silent letting his words hang in the air. She felt a tear spill down her cheek and she brought a hand to wipe it away.

“Uh, you know what, Wally, I should get going,” she said quietly into the receiver.

“Shit. Iris, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah you did. I’ll talk to you later,” she hung up before she could hear his response. In the small room she wiped her tears and hoped her mascara stayed intact, not wanting to have to offer an explanation as to why she was crying in the middle of Barry’s birthday party.

She looked down at her phone once more, the time reading 10:00, and decided to go find Linda. If she had to pry her off her new friend she would, but she just needed _someone_ to talk to. Luckily, no prying was necessary, and she joined her in a group of a few others.

“And where have you been all night?” Linda asked, nudging Iris suggestively with her elbow.

“I need to talk to y—” she trailed off as her eyes fell on Barry, standing across the room, with Patty. His eyes were glued to hers and he pulled her into a tight hug; it was the same way he’d looked at her, held her, standing on the train platform after their day at the beach. Her heart dropped into her stomach, where she could only hope it would finally dissolve in its acid and leave her alone once and for all. Patty leaned up and pressed a kiss to Barry’s cheek just below his left eye, the same place Barry had kissed her when he walked her home. The same night that she realized they could never just be friends, that she would always want more from him. Patty pulled away first and he looked down at her with an honest smile that reached his eyes, and Iris knew that he couldn’t be hers. He looked up, catching her staring. She thought she was gonna be sick.

“Iris, what’s wrong?” Linda asked her, and she tore her eyes away from him.

“Nothing,” she shook it off looking at her friend’s concerned face. “Nothing, I’m just…not feeling well. I think I’m gonna go home.”

Linda looked over at the woman she’d been flirting with all night then back at Iris.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Oh, no. I’m okay, hon. Really, you stay.”

“Are you sure?” She asked not totally convinced.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Have fun tonight,” she could see Barry walking over out of the corner of her eye, “I’ll text you when I get home,”

With that she turned and walked out of the party, away from him, as quickly as she could, begging herself not to cry.

——

Tonight was the night that he was finally going to tell Iris how he felt.If she still didn’t feel the same it would hurt, but not more than not knowing. No matter what she said he’d respect her decision and try to keep her in his life in anyway she’d let him, but he knew that leaving anything unsaid would ruin them in the end. Dragging those two cushions out there, he had it all planned: he’d take her out to the fire escape towards the end of the night, so they could be alone, then he’d hold her hand and look into her eyes and tell her everything. But as soon as he saw her, standing all alone across the room, looking like an angel, he knew he couldn’t wait. So he went to her.

All at once he was trying not to blurt it out and at the same time actually work up the courage to say it. Feeling like he was on the verge of passing out, he told her about the night he saw her from the fire escape, knowing that “pretty” couldn’t even begin to describe how she looked — how she always looked. Everything was going well, better than he imagined, even, when she gave him Bear-y. It was cheesy and wonderful and silly and summed up everything that he loved about her.It was then he felt the words crawling up his throat, preparing to spring out. It was finally going to happen, Iris was finally going to know. Then Cisco stuck his drunk head out the window. So again he had to swallow down the thoughts that made him feel like he was constantly on the verge of combustion and go do his goddamn birthday shots.

Cisco poured them each three shots, honoring the night nearly a decade ago when the two of them had their first legal drinks on Barry’s 21st birthday. Cisco had been in charge of getting the alcohol since Barry had been stuck working all day, and what he decided to purchase, in his infinite wisdom, was one jar of apple pie moonshine. It was without a doubt the most vile drink imaginable: sickly sweet and it felt like hot gravel going down your throat. They both nearly barfed, but didn’t, and made a bet they’d drink it on Barry’s birthday until one of them finally puked. Every year since then, at 9:47 sharp to mark the time he was born, Barry and Cisco managed to keep up the pact and took three revolting shots of apple pie moonshine, and each year it was just as bad as the first. 

“Arriba! Abajo! Al centro! Pa’ dentro! Let’s do this baby,” Cisco yelled, for the 8th year in a row, as they clinked the first glasses together. One gave you a false sense of confidence, two made you reconsider every decision you ever made, and the third made you wish you were never born.

After chugging half a liter of Coke, hoping to burn the taste out of his mouth, Barry was determined to finish what he started on the fire escape. Before he could get back to her he felt Cisco’s hands gripping his shoulders.

“Happy birthday dude!” He squeezed Barry. This always happened the few times Cisco went out Cindy-less; he’d get bored without her and drink a _little_ too much to try to compensate. “You’re the best best friend, Barth-” _hiccup_ “-olomew” _hiccup_.

“I love you too, buddy. But I need to go find Iris,” Barry said, trying to remove Cisco’s hands.

“Oooooooohhhh,” he said it like a kid whose classmate got called into the office.

“What?”

“Bbarryyy and Iris sittin' in a tree,” Cisco called out in a singsong voice. He grabbed Barry’s face and pulled him down to his eye level, “I gotta a secret. Shhhhh, I gotta secret to tell you, birthday Barry. Are you listening to me, Bartholomew? Are you listening?”

Barry couldn’t help but laugh at his oldest friend.

“This is a se-serious matter,” Cisco stumbled through the words and little bit over his feet. Barry was 99% sure he would be passing out on the couch tonight and made a mental note to text Cindy.

“We’ve talked about it and you, buddy, you are the most happiest we’ve se-seen you in a loooonnnggg time. Like…like maybe ever. Rainbow is good for you. So so good for you. Yo-you can’t let her go dude.” He smacked Barry’s cheeks just hard enough that it stung. Even wasted Cisco was still one of the best people he knew and his approval, drunk or not, meant the world to him.

“I’m trying, man.”

“Pssht. Well! Try harder! What are you even doing here talking ta me for?” Barry rolled his eyes at that.

“I love you dude.”

“Aww I love you too, B-b-b-” he clamped a hand over his mouth and ran around the corner making a beeline for the bathroom.

Barry ran after him knocking on the door. “Are you okay man!?”

“I’m-” Barry could make out the sound of Cisco’s retches.

“I’m coming in there,” he opened the door and saw him sitting next to the toilet, propped up against the bathtub panting, shockingly his long hair was vomit free.

“I guess the moonshine finally got me,” he laughed. His breath reeked. The door knob twisted slightly as someone tried to get in, but Barry had locked it behind him. He waited a few minutes to make sure Cisco didn’t have anything left.

“Alright buddy, let’s get you up,” he pulled the 5’6” man from the floor, slinging his arm around him to support his weight. He paused for a moment in front of the mirror, “smile for Cindy” he said, snapping a picture.

“I love her soooooo muchhh,” Cisco crooned as Barry took him to lay down in his bed.

“I know you do.”

Cisco flopped down on his stomach, while Barry went to get him a glass of water and charcoal tablets, from the bottle he bought as per Dr. Iris' recommendation.

He sat next to Cisco, making sure he downed the glass, and sent the photo to Cindy with no explanation.

Cindy _9:54pm_

> God what a stallion

> Take good care of my man Barry

> And happy birthday

Barry smiled at the response, starting to get up to go back out.

“Hey,” Cisco managed from the pillow, half-heartedly moving his foot to kick Barry’s leg. “Go get your Rainbow,” he murmured before passing out.

He shut the lights and closed the door behind him. He went straight back to the window, praying she was still out there but only found someone smoking and bending down to pet his neighbor’s cat.

“Gar?” he called, sticking his head out. Gar whipped around like he thought Barry would reprimand him.

“Yeah boss?” he said quickly, stubbing out the cigarette.

“Was there a girl when you came out here?”

“No, nobody was here except this little guy,” he shook his head, bouncing his dark curly hair. He was a good looking kid, maybe twenty-two, definitely the youngest person there.

“Okay thanks.” He turned to leave, then added, “that stuff’ll kill you, Gar.”

“Okay boss,” though as he pulled his head inside he heard the scratch of his lighter.

Where could she have gone? Involuntarily his hand went to the back of his neck, his anxiety level rising as he looked around the room, searching for Iris. He didn’t see her anywhere. What if she left? What if he missed his chance? His phone vibrated in his pocket.

_Mom_ 10:00pm

> Happy birthday, sweetheart! Thinking of you. I love you and we can’t wait to see you next week!

Now, on top of everything else, he was reminded that next week he had to go back home, probably alone, and deal with…everything.

He could feel his heart rate picking up and a tightening in his chest. This was getting to be too much to handle. Why were there still so many people at his house? Where was Iris?

“What’s with the frown?” He looked up to see Patty standing in front of him, the spokesperson of going with the flow. He slipped his phone into his back pocket.

“Nothing, just my mom. Have you had any cake yet? It’s red velvet.”

“No, not yet.”

“Isn’t it good?” He asked looking past her, eyes still darting around the room. He felt her hand griping his forearm and recalled his attention back to her.

“You okay, Barry?” Her eyes searched his, “You seem a little…frazzled.”

He took a breath trying to center himself

“Just… got a lot on my mind,” Barry started to feel the warmth of the drinks settling in his stomach, helping to ease his fear but turning up his determination. Where was Iris? He needed to talk to Iris. He turned his head again, looking past Patty, around the room for her.

“Hey, well you know you can always talk to me,” she reached up to hold his chin still, “right, Barry?”

He focused on her blue eyes and took another breath. Patty did always have a knack for calming him down. She might not have always understood it but she was never impatient or unkind with him. He looked at her disarming face and knew that despite everything they’d been through, or maybe more so everything they hadn’t gone through, she meant her words. Even if things didn’t work between them romantically, Patty was still a good friend to him.

He covered her hand on his forearm with his own, “I know.” He would be there for her and she would be there for him. She smiled at him and he returned it, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you, Patty,” he said to her as they embraced.

She pressed a warm kiss to his cheek before they separated that, in another lifetime, would have made his heart ache with tenderness.

“Anytime.”

Barry looked up and his eyes met Iris’, standing in a group with Linda and few others. Seeing _her_ made his heart ache. What once felt like trying to work up the courage to jump out of a plane now felt like coming home after a long day — he was overcome with a newfound confidence to tell her. But something wasn’t right. She was just standing across the room but she seemed like she was a million miles away; though she was looking in his direction, she wasn’t returning his gaze as she usually did. He watched her say something to Linda with a tired, apologetic look, then practically ran out the door.

“Excuse me, Patty,” he said, not entirely registering her “yeah, sure” before going after her, confused.

He walked out of his own party to see the door to the stairwell still open and hear the echo of her feet pounding down the steps. He ran down after her to find her out in front of the bar trying to catch her breath.

“Iris!” He called as he reached for her hand before she could bolt again, making her face him. He was feeling a little dizzy from the alcohol and the running but he tried his best to be still. “What happened? Did I do something?” he asked genuinely.

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, with an anger he didn’t anticipate. He watched her take a deep breath. “Like I told Linda, I’m not feeling well. I’m just gonna go home. Go back up and enjoy your birthday.” She looked over his shoulder and he followed her gaze up to the fire escape. “Have fun with…everyone.”

His face scrunched in confusion. What did that mean? Iris tried to leave but he tugged at her hand again, causing his balance to falter.

“Iris, wait I wanted to tell you something.” It was now or never. He looked down at their hands, trying to go back to their earlier conversation.

“Me too,” he looked back up at her in surprise. “Barry, I know things have been off and I,” she broke off and he noticed the red in her eyes. Had she been crying? “I need you to know that we could only ever be friends.”

He dropped her hand and backed away a little bit. She kept talking.

“I don’t want to lead you on or for you to misinterpret anything and I’ve just been thinking about it and I realized we both have so much going on that we shouldn’t make this—”

“Complicated.” He finished her sentence. “That’s what you were going to say, right? Complicated?”

For a second he could swear she looked shocked, but whatever he thought he saw was quickly shrouded with anger under the sickly orange yellow glow of the buzzing streetlamp.

“Right.”

The street was filled with other people: friends, acquaintances, couples…all celebrating the end of another long summer week. Barry and Iris faced each other, diametrically opposed, on a battlefield of their own creation — seemingly no words left to be said to one another.

He stood there looking at her, wondering how so much could change in an instant. But then again, his life had been a series of earth shattering changes happening in the blink of an eye. He was foolish to think this would be…could be any different.

“Happy birthday, Bare,” Iris said, with an air of finality to it that hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. He watched as she turned and walked away from him without looking back, until she was around the corner and out of sight.

He climbed the stairs, slowly, dragging his feet. He planted himself on his couch with a beer in hand as his guests trickled out one by one, wishing him a happy birthday as they left. Alone in his living room, he stared at the clock on his cable box, watching as 11:59 turned to 12:00. Another year gone by, another birthday celebrated. Twenty-nine felt no different from twenty-eight. Once more, he climbed out to his fire escape and there he waited for the long, lonely night to eventually turn to morning.


	9. Chapter 9

Even though every part of her was exhausted Iris couldn’t fall asleep. Lying in her bed, she stared at the ceiling the entire night, only realizing it was the early morning when she heard Linda clomping through the apartment in the same heels from the night before. A vibration deep in her bones kept her from sleep — an overwhelmingly intense need to move made it so that, eventually, she couldn’t take lying still for another second.

With the desperate sensation of needing to get out fueling her tired body, she laced up her running shoes and hit the pavement. The sky was a grayish-blue, no longer the black of midnight, and the air was cool and wet with dew. Out on the street, there was no rhyme or reason to her direction, only her gut telling her to move. It was the first time since she was a kid she’d gone out to see the sunrise, except now she didn’t care about the fiery colors of the sky, the first warmth and light of the long day ahead. No, that morning it all seemed so…dull. Uneventful. Unimportant. The unsettling vibration persisting, she decided to go for a real run on the trail in the park. She chose paths she’d never been down before — abandoning any and all familiarity.

This morning she ran further than she ever had before: the harder her lungs screamed for oxygen and the sharper the pain in her shins the easier it was to not think about last night — about how stupid she felt for thinking Barry actually wanted her — until finally her body gave out. She keeled over in front of the pond, taking shallow, ragged breaths. In the reflection of the still water she saw the sky. What was once a brilliant display of warm colors was now covered in darkening clouds, the sun totally obscured from sight. Soon the still waters were disturbed by a succession of ripples, turning the pond into a cacophony of motion. She covered herself with the hood on her sweatshirt and turned to run home.

When she returned, she took a long shower, washing off the sweat and the splatters of mud staining her legs. Flashes of the night before invaded her thoughts. Barry on the fire escape. Barry holding her. The sound of his voice when he told her she was pretty. The way his eyes lit up at his gift. Patty’s smile about Barry. Patty holding Barry, kissing Barry. _“Complicated, that’s what you were gonna say, right?”_. Barry’s hand slipping out of hers. Walking away from Barry. She stood facing the shower head and let the water run over her ears so that the world sounded distorted. She stayed until the water ran cold and even then she endured it for another five minutes.

Her headphones remained glued to her head the rest of the day, drowning out Linda’s concern as she got ahead on her work, catching up with all of her emails; if she were working she didn’t have time to think about it. She even managed to finish the sample article she’d been trying to write for months about the lasting effects red lining had on the neighborhood where she grew up. But even that made her think of him, of the time he asked her about it when she kept him company on a slow Saturday, typing away on her laptop as he stood behind the bar. The way his eyes tracked hers as she got lost in the emotional explanation.

_“This is the stuff a website like Snub should be writing about! Real issues that affect real people that nobody wants to talk about. People deserve to know the truth,”_ he’d said to her with a little bit of his own frustration, because of course he just…got it. 

Linda kept checking on her, asking if she wanted to watch movies or eat ice cream or punch something. Every time she asked if she was ready to talk about it Iris smiled a not quite Iris smile, shaking her head and saying “I’m okay”, and turned up the music in her ears until it couldn’t go any higher.

That afternoon, Linda was finally forced to leave Iris' side to go back home for her parents’ 30th anniversary party. She’d tried to convince Iris to come with her, worried about her friend.

“That’s a little too much happiness for me,” Iris said when she asked, for the fourth time. She still hadn’t really told Linda what happened, though she probably knew it must’ve been something with Barry.

“Seriously, Lin, I’m fine. Go be with your family,” Iris said in response to Linda’s concerned mom face.

“What are you gonna do while I’m gone?” Linda asked, hating to leave her best friend alone like this.

“I don’t know…maybe I’ll wash my hair. Don’t worry about me, I’m a big girl, I can handle myself. Now get out of here before your parents call and blame me for you being late.” She practically started pushing Linda out the door, looking forward to a night of solitude.

“Okay fine. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” she said hugging Linda, “Go before you miss the train.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night. Love you.”

“Love you more,” Iris said back as her friend finally left.

——

It was 1 a.m. and Iris was on the couch, wrapped in blankets, watching _The Golden Girls_ and eating her weight in ice cream. She was just about to go to bed — though really, she was just about to click _yes, I’m still watching_ — when she heard a knock on the door.

“Linda isn’t here, Lauren,” Iris called out, annoyed, walking to the door. She was the only one of their neighbors who would possibly be knocking at this hour.

“It’s not Lauren,” she recognized Barry’s voice from the hallway. Iris stopped in her tracks. What was he doing here? “Iris, can I come in?”

She didn’t know what to do. This was way too soon. She missed him but she wasn’t ready to see him yet.

“Iris?” his voice came again.

This was getting too awkward. She decided to be an adult so she threw off her snuggie and opened the door. He stood with his hand fixed to knock again, his hair and shirt a little wet from the rain.

“Can I come in?” He asked again.

She thought for a second then finally nodded, walking back to the couch to pick up the remote and turning down the volume of the TV, though not bothering to turn on any more of the lights — he wouldn’t be staying long. Her initial shock subsided and the anger set in. What right did he have to be here, in her living room, a day after she essentially told him to leave her alone?

He followed her in and shut the door behind him. He stared at her with a little smile, not saying anything.

“What?” She asked, trying not to sound too annoyed, but it was late and Barry was pretty much the last person she wanted to see.

He cleared his throat. “Nothing, it’s just I didn’t know you wear glasses,” he told her.

She looked down self-consciously, pushing at the round frames and wishing she was wearing something that made her feel a little more powerful. She had never let him see her in Saturday slob mode: messy bun, glasses, oversized sweatshirt covered in stains, ratty pajama shorts, and thick fuzzy socks because she was perpetually cold.

“I like it,” he said.

“What do you want, Barry? It’s late,” she told him reiterating her thoughts. She needed him to leave, she wasn’t anywhere near ready to go back to their usual flirty banter.

The smirk fell from his face.

“Please talk to me, Iris,” he said. “Is this about Patty because nothing’s going on between us. We’re just friends.”

“I don’t care about Patty,” she said icily. “You’re grown; you can see whoever you want.”

“Then why did you leave last night? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Barry,” she said, crossing her arms, exasperated.

“Why haven’t you been returning my calls or answering my texts?” She shut off her phone as soon as she got home and hadn’t bothered to turn it back on so that she wouldn’t have to deal with Barry. Clearly her efforts to avoid him were moot.

She stayed quiet and refused to meet his eyes.

“Iris,” he said grabbing her hands, trying to make her look at him, “whatever I did I can fix it. Let me fix it.”

She moved away from him, finding the gesture invasive and overwhelming. This wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t get to come into _her_ home in the middle of the night and say these things to her and remind her how much she missed him. Because she did. No matter how crushed and furious she was, underneath it all the only thing she wanted was to be close to him. But that want came with the sting of knowing how much she couldn’t have him.

“I already told you you didn’t do anything wrong,” her answer dripped with venom. “I just figured I’d give you…give _us both_ some space.”

“What does that even mean, Iris?” He asked confused.

“Barry, we’ve been spending all our free time together for weeks. And then I saw you and Patty together and I realized,” she heard her voice getting louder. She stopped, took a breath, and tried again, “I realized I’ve been hogging you.”

“Hogging me?”

“I’ve been selfish, we both need to be putting ourselves out there. We can’t spend all our time with our friends.” She turned away from him and walked towards the couch to refold a blanket. “We’re almost 30,” she continued, “we should be out meeting people.”

“Don’t do that.” He said it quietly with a cold tone in his voice, still standing where she’d left him.

“Don’t do what!?” She threw the blanket back down to the couch, annoyed that _he_ was getting frustrated.

“Don’t pretend like you’re doing me a favor by trying to walk out of my life,” he spat it at her, sounding pissed off.

“Barry, I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Well I do!” He came towards her again. “If that’s the only way that we’re gonna talk then I want to fight with you!” She’d never seen him upset like this. He sighed and took a second to collect himself before starting again, softer this time. “Iris, I’m not just going to let you leave before you even give us a chance. It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to you.”

She let her arms fall to her sides; now she was confused.

“Iris, I came here because I can’t let you go,” he looked down, “not without at least trying.”

She was stunned, looking at Barry standing in her apartment, the two of them finally having an honest conversation.

“And I know you said that you just want to be friends…and-and if that’s true then I’ll leave and we can go back to how it was before because I can’t lose you, Iris. I just…” he trailed off, falling silent.

She cautiously moved closer to him, a wolf rolled over to show his belly. His stare was fixed to a spot on the floor until she put a hand on his arm. Standing in front of him she saw how his hair was still wet from the rain and the heavy bags beneath his eyes. _He hadn’t been able to sleep either_. 

“I need you,” he said, innocently yet firm, looking down at her.

“I need you too, Bare.”

The words had just left her mouth when he pulled her into a kiss. He brought his arms around her back, pulling her flush against him as he sat on the arm of her couch. It was unexpected and it took her a beat to understand what was happening but she melted into him in an instant.

Kissing Barry was like finally letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. His lips were soft against hers as he kissed her sweetly. Just as good as she remembered.

He pulled away, eyes still closed, resting his forehead against hers. His hand came up to rest on the side of her face with his fingers hooked around the back of her neck.

“Don’t go away again,” he said quietly.

“I won’t.” 

She stood unmoving in his embrace, not wanting to be the first to break the intimate silence. Her hands moved to the nape of his neck, her fingers playing with his soft baby hairs. Outside the world went on — sirens rang, dogs howled, someone shouted at their neighbor, and the light rain continued to fall. Inside, Iris and Barry stayed still as it all went on without them, not caring if they would be missed. Here, in this unmoving state, they were finally in the same place at the same time and she wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“Well, I should probably get going…” he finally said some indeterminable amount of time later, rubbing her back through her sweatshirt, his feet still firmly planted to the floor.

“Yeah, probably.” she mumbled. He kissed her deeper and a little less carefully, slowly sliding his tongue into her mouth. How the hell had she survived this long without kissing this man? She moved to grab at his hair as his hands ventured lower. He gripped her waist so hard she thought he might leave a mark, but she welcomed it, thinking that perhaps some lingering evidence might prove to her this was all real.

This time she broke their kiss and he chased after her lips, which she appreciated.

“Well, you know, Linda is out of town…” she trailed off as he moved to her neck.

“Is she?” He teased between kisses along her throat.

“Bare,” she gasped quietly as he pulled at her neck gently with his teeth, making him do it again a little harder. Action and reaction.

With him still seated on the arm of the couch and her standing in front of him, between his legs, they were roughly the same height. He easily moved his hands from her waist down to the back of her thighs.

“I can never seem to keep these legs off my mind,” he said in her ear in a low, gravely voice that sent chills down her spine.

He dragged his hands up at an agonizingly slow speed leaving her feeling a little breathless.

“And this,” he told her casually, squeezing her ass. She breathed in sharply. His theatrics were ridiculous but, surprisingly, they were working for her. “This is pretty phenomenal, too.” Action, reaction.

His hands kept going, moving up her back, underneath the sweatshirt. His fingertips dragged against her bare skin, lightly tracing the curve of her spine and scaling the arch of her shoulder blades. It wasn’t fair. Here he was being confident and a little bit cocky, meanwhile she unraveled under his touch, not able to get anything out except a few involuntary sounds and shaky breaths. She gave him one last sloppy kiss and pulled away from him, instantly missing the feel of his hands on her.

All of her actions were slow, drawn out, deliberate because there was no way she would ever rush this. He watched as she took her hair out of the bun letting her freshly washed curls fall down her back. She stripped off the sweatshirt so she was standing in front of him naked from the waist up. She didn’t miss how his eyes widened, the reaction pretty satisfying in itself. She reached to take off her glasses but he stopped her.

“Wait,” he said, suddenly looking a little shy as his pale cheeks flushed with color. “Maybe, um,” he cleared his throat, “maybe you could leave them on?” He asked quietly, a little embarrassed.

“The glasses are really working for you, huh?”

He shrugged and nodded making them both laugh and she remembered this wasn’t some torrid seduction. It was just them.

He stood up and took a step forward into her reach. She took off his slightly rain-damp shirt, too, leveling the playing ground again. Her hands looped around his neck while his found their way to the small of her back and she looked him over again, the tall, string bean of a man who wanted her too.

“You’re so handsome, Bare,” she said to him, and she meant it. His hair was a mess from her wandering fingers and his mouth was already a little redder and a little swollen. He flashed a million-watt smile at her. He really was pretty perfect.

“So are you,” they both laughed, swaying together to the laugh track spilling from the TV and the whir of the fan in the dimly lit room.

“My beautiful Iris,” he whispered, bringing his lips home to hers, kissing her slowly, and moving his hand to again cradle her face.

“Take me to bed,” she told him when they parted.

Iris wrapped her legs around his torso as he lifted her and walked her back to her bedroom.


	10. Chapter 10

Barry woke to the early afternoon light streaming into the room, the tip of his nose pushed up against the back of Iris' neck with his hands wrapped protectively around her waist. He listened to her soft, constant breaths as she slept, just barely edging on a snore.

They’d stayed up for hours, exploring the new territory of their relationship — all of her expressions, all of her movements, all of her sounds burning themselves into his brain. From now until the end of forever he knew he would carry each of them with him, whether he liked it or not. Though he hadn’t got much sleep he felt more refreshed than ever. He wondered how he ever got lucky enough to be the man waking up beside her in her blue pinstriped sheets. How many moments aligned just so to lead him here, to his equilibrium of being, in her bed, in this ten story apartment uptown? He knew with an alarming certainty that last night, once again, his life was split into a before and after, that it would never feel the same. He was invigorated and at ease all at once; the feeling was intoxicating.

He heard Iris inhale deeply before turning in his arms to face him, her eyes still closed and wearing a content expression. She buried her face into his neck and he kissed her curls — she smelled like peppermint. They stayed in bed not saying anything for what felt like hours, as if the moment were so fragile it could easily be undone with words, as if saying anything was a risk they weren’t yet willing to take. Barry rubbed circles into Iris' back while she kissed the freckles on his neck and each tattoo on his arm.

“You’re obsessed,” he said with a smile as she delicately traced the ink, finally breaking the silence.

“I like them,” she said back, matter of factly. She moved down his body, kissing them again, just as she’d done the first night they were together. First the daisy, then the lily, down to the bluebell, and stopping on the rose.

“You must have a thing for flowers,” she told him as she draped a leg over his torso. Like a magnet his hand went to her thigh. 

“I must,” he said pulling her face to his to give her a kiss. He crinkled his nose at her morning breath which she returned with a swat to the same shoulder that she had so lovingly dwelled on. She resettled on his chest, sinking into him. The bright light filtering in through the window better illuminated everything in the room, including her, and he reveled in the chance to inspect all of her at his own pace.

“You know,” he continued after a moment, moving her hair aside to run his fingertips along the length of her spine, “I’ve been thinking about getting an iris next.” He said it partly to preserve the back and forth but partly because it was true.

“Tattoos are kinda permanent,” she said with a laugh. “Don’t you think?” He started to feel a little panicky. He held her tighter as though he would be able to keep her forever if he could only hold her tight enough.

“Iris?” He said her name like a question. He wanted to tell her he was in this completely. That he wanted her more than anything in the world, even though it scared the shit out of him and that he’d cover his body in irises if only to prove it.

“Mm?” She answered, continuing to draw constellations between the freckles on his chest.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

He kissed her and got out of bed to go to the kitchen.

——

They spent most of the day in her bedroom. If one had to describe the state of her room one might say that it was not unlike a deadly natural disaster (or two) had passed through. Clothes were scattered across nearly every surface, though to be fair a few articles were his from the night before. She had various news clippings, to-do lists, quotes, and photos taped to her walls, and everywhere he looked there were stacks of books, newspapers, magazines, journals, you name it; if it had writing in it it was probably somewhere in a pile in her room (Iris West must have single handedly kept print media hanging on). He counted five coffee mugs around the room, each with a unique slogan: “coffee makes me poop”, “I survived another meeting that should’ve been an email”, “I woke up like this”, “world’s best boss”, and “I went to the Grand Canyon and all I got was this stupid mug”, the last of which was knocked over on her rug. The only pieces of furniture aside from her bed were a dresser, overflowing with clothes, and a work desk with her laptop sitting atop a mess of papers. The whole scene was the material manifestation of Iris and it filled him with affection.

Eventually they got out of bed to eat, though somewhere between her room and the kitchen they got distracted again. Once they actually made it to the fridge and not just the counter (or the floor), he found that she had almost no food. So he asked her what she was in the mood for and when she said spaghetti Barry ran as fast he could down to the store to get a box of pasta, sauce, and more condoms. He texted Cisco saying he couldn’t make it to dinner and that they would get breakfast on Monday instead which got him a series of question marks and GIFs in return that Barry ignored. At around 9 o’clock he found himself sitting on the couch, watching TV with a mostly-eaten, pot of pasta in red sauce covered in cheese, with two forks sticking out, in front of him and Iris in his arms.

“Hey,” he said once the movie had finished. “I know this is kind of last minute, but what are your plans for next weekend?”

She turned to look at him inquisitively.

“Nothing. Why? Whatcha got, Allen?”

“Well, I have to go back home for my brother’s wedding,” he paused and took a breath. “And I was wondering if you would be my date.”

She reached for his face and pulled him into a gentle kiss.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes. I’d love to be your date, Bare.”

He exhaled and pulled her on top of him, wrapping his arms around her.

“Have I told you how much I like you?”

“Yeah, but it’s always nice to hear,” she said back with a smile on her face, leaning down to kiss him again.

As she moved to pin him to the couch and his hands gravitated to the hem of her shirt, they heard the jingle of keys then the turn of the lock. Humming invaded the room which abruptly stopped followed by the sound of a bag violently clattering to the floor.

“NO FUCKING WAY,” Linda exclaimed into the once tranquil room. “I’m gone for one night and you two FINALLY get together?!”

Barry watched Iris smile guiltily as she dug her face into his neck, hiding from her friend.

Linda walked over and gave Barry a high-five then walked off to her bedroom muttering “about fucking time” before closing the door.

——

Barry reluctantly went back to his own apartment that night, needing a change of clothes and letting Iris get a full night of rest before work.

At breakfast the next day Barry explained to Cisco why he couldn’t make it to dinner, skipping over a few of the more intimate details, earning him two more high-fives; one from Cisco, one from Sam.

“I’m happy for you, man,” he told Barry.

“Thanks,” Barry replied going back to his pancakes. “And I invited her to Malcolm’s wedding.”

“Whoa,” Cisco said, putting down his fork. “That’s huge. How do you feel?”

“A little nervous,” he confessed. The prospect of returning home was never a happy one for Barry, especially now that he’d have to see his brother and…her.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? It’s not too late to back out of it.”

“I think it’ll be okay. And besides I’ll have Iris with me,” Barry said, the thought warming him as he drowned his breakfast in syrup.

“Did you brief her?”

Barry paused while the syrup continued to settle into a massive pool on the plate. “Was I supposed to?”

“Dude. I’m no expert but I’m pretty sure surprising someone with twenty-nine years of super weird family drama isn’t the best way to test a new relationship.”

——

Iris couldn’t stop smiling. Not even Scott shooting her nasty looks or an intern screwing up her coffee order could spoil her good mood. As long as Barry was hers she might never stop smiling. 

After he’d gone home she filled Linda in on everything that happened since the party. Linda “joked” it was a good thing Iris hadn’t told her what was wrong or she might have thrown a brick through the window of the bar. When she told her about the wedding Linda asked if she was worried about meeting his family so soon. That gave her a little pause. She was definitely nervous, but the thought wasn’t overwhelming. Sure it might be a little awkward at first but they’d warm up to her and she to them. And how could she ever say no to him? Besides, she was looking forward to seeing where he grew up and filling in some missing pieces to his story.

Sometime that afternoon, just as she posted a follow up to another celebrity gossip piece that made her want to pull her hair out one strand at a time, her phone buzzed (saving her curls for the moment).

_Wally_ 2:30pm

> Hi

Iris hadn’t spoken to him since the night of the party; usually when they got into fights they would take a few days of breathing room for everyone to cool off. Their parents had always advised them never to go into conversations hot headed and fresh from the fight — they were always quick to separate the siblings before feelings were hurt and bruises could be exchanged.

_Iris_ 2:30pm

> Hey

_Wally_

_ > _I’m sorry

> I shouldn’t have said what I said

> I was being a shit and you didn’t deserve it

> You’re the strongest person I know and I love you Bug

She smiled at the last text; it had been forever since he called her by his old nickname for her. He must have really felt bad for what he’d said.

_Iris_

_ >_ I’m sorry too Wall

> I shouldn’t put my shit on you, I think that you and Jacques are amazing together

> You know I only ever want to see you happy

_Wally_

> I know

> So like are we cool or what???

She shook her head at his childish impatience.

_Iris_

> Yes, Wallace, we’re cool

> I love you ya know

_Wally_

> Yeah yeah yeah

> Jk

> Love you too Bug

Putting her phone aside, she felt a rush of relief from the conversation. Her brother meant the world to her and with their relationship back in place she could resume basking in the glow of things going her way for the moment.

Iris managed to leave work around 7 that day. Just as she thought about calling Barry to see what he was up to, she spotted him leaning against a street sign, waiting in front of her office building. Her heart melted at the sight of him in a Radiohead t-shirt and sneakers, earbuds in, bopping his head along to whatever song was playing. God was she so far gone for that tall smush. She rushed over, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss.

“Mmm. I could get used to that,” he said, pecking her again.

“Hello to you too,” she said before letting go.

“Here, I got these for you.”

He handed her a small bouquet as he took her work bag off her shoulder so he could carry it. It was an arrangement of irises.

“What are these for?” She asked, surprised but appreciative.

“You always deserve to feel special, Iris,” he told her simply as she admired the flowers. She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek and grabbed his hand.

“Are you hungry?” He asked.

“Starving,” she replied as they started to walk.

“How does dim sum sound?”

“Like the best thing in the whole entire world,” she said as he laughed. He put one of the headphones in her ear and kept the other so they could both listen as they walked along the crowded streets full of people leaving the office for the day.

He led her to a total whole in the wall a few blocks away. It was narrow and long, like a hallway, with tables for two and four lining the mirrored walls and an aisle separating them. The crowd was mostly people dressed in suits, coming straight from work, and a few waiters ran back and forth between tables and the kitchen in organized chaos. They were seated right away and had the specials barked at them before their waiter disappeared down the aisle again.

“They have the best soup dumplings I’ve ever had, I swear,” he told her as she scanned the plastic menu. To her the restaurant seemed a bit questionable but if he was vouching for it she figured it must be good.

“How did you find this place?” There was no way you could ever stumble upon it: it was above a laundromat and the entrance wasn’t even on the actual street.

“Cisco,” he answered simply from behind his menu. “He has a food Instagram where he reviews take-out from all around the city. He came up with his own ranking system and everything.”

“Yeah that tracks,” she said as the waiter came back with their water and green tea.

They ordered soup dumplings, duck pancakes, pork buns, spring rolls, and something with chicken. As soon as they finished the waiter snatched their menus and disappeared to the kitchen.

“Well I guess we know we won’t have to wait long for our food,” she said watching the kitchen doors swing.

Across the table, Barry was using his straw to put water droplets on the scrunched wrapper so that it crawled across the laminated placemat. He stared intently at his paper worm until she nudged his foot with hers beneath the table.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked with a curious smile.

“Just…things.”

“What…things?” She parroted his pause.

He just shrugged a little, abandoning his project. “Nothing, it’s nothing. How was your day?”

She wondered why he deflected her question, but answered his anyway.

“It was pretty good except I couldn’t get much work done.”

“Oh no?” He asked slightly distracted.

“Yeah. Guess I’m too hung up on this guy I just started seeing,” she said, nudging him again, a little disgusted by her own sappiness.

He cocked his head like a puppy and smiled. She’d be sappy any day of the week for that face.

“Soup dumplings and pork buns,” the waiter pushed their food on to the table, right between their enamored gaze; it would’ve ruined the moment if she hadn’t been so hungry. Barry didn’t lie, they were the best soup dumplings she’d ever tasted. She had to stop herself from finishing all of them so he could at least have one. She looked up to offer him the remainders and found him staring off into space.

“Earth to Barry,” she said waiving her chopsticks in his face.

He caught himself and refocused on her, “huh?”

“What is up with you today, dude? Is everything okay?”

He reached across the table for her hand. “I’m with you aren’t I?” She rolled her eyes with a smile and gave it to him. He brushed his thumb across her knuckles and looked up at her again.

“Iris?” He asked.

“Yeah, Bare?” She said, picking up her glass for a drink.

“What happened between you and your dad?”

She was so caught off guard by the question that she choked on her water.

“Oh god are you okay?” He asked, his own cheeks a little red. She was still coughing but gave him a thumbs up, wiping the spilled water away with her napkin.

“Where did that come from?” She asked once she could speak again though her head was still reeling.

“I just remember you saying something about it at the beach and I’ve been thinking about it. Obviously, you don’t have to tell me. God, that was stupid of me, of course you shouldn’t have to talk about it. You know what, just forget I asked and let’s go back to dumplings,” he rushed on.

“No, no it’s okay. I want to tell you, I just really _really_ wasn’t expecting that,” she said, smoothing out her napkin.

“Uh, well, okay, I guess it was after my mom died.”

His kind eyes encouraged her to go on.

“I mean, I don’t know,” she cleared her throat and shifted a bit in her chair. “Obviously her passing was really hard on all of us but it was like my dad–” she paused trying to find the right words, “…decided to stop living when she did.”

Iris remembered how after the funeral they saw less and less of him as he started picking up more hours at the precinct. How at eighteen she had to step in for Wally as a parental figure, helping him with homework, taking him to school, making sure he didn’t slip through the cracks. How she almost missed her prom to be at his championship track meet so that at least _someone_ was there for him. And all the while her dad was either too busy at work or locked in his home office, not wanting to be bothered.

Never once did Iris resent her brother for any of it; it wasn’t his fault, he was just a kid. But as the years went by her anger towards her father grew. At first, she felt bad for him. She was patient and forgiving; she couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like to lose the love of his life, how lonely it must’ve been. But with age she became less sympathetic — after all they’d all lost her. Why should he get special treatment? Wally had since reconciled, especially when he’d come out to their father who supported him. But as far as Iris was concerned there was nothing he could say to make up for the past decade of her life.

“He stopped showing up for us,” she said definitively. 

“I’m so sorry, Iris,” he said quietly across the table.

She shrugged. “Before that we were all so close. Even when she got sick, they were the best parents. They never made me or Wally feel less important through any of it. And they were so in love, oh my god. I mean, Bare, you should’ve seen them,” an involuntary smile crept on to her face as she chased after the happy memories.

“My dad used to say to her,” she dropped her voice an octave to get it right, “‘baby, you’re the grits, you’re the greens, and the chocolate ice cream’. And even though he said it just about everyday it always made her smile.” Her eyes landed on Barry mimicking her own warmth and it brought her back to the restaurant. She cleared her throat.

“We all handled it differently but…I don’t know, it was like we reminded him too much of her or something.” The bad memories pushed out the good and just like that she could feel herself becoming upset all over again. “Sometimes I wonder which is worse: living without her or living with him.” She fell silent, the words sounding harsh to her own ears.

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” Barry traced his index finger along the side of her wrist. All she could muster was a nod in response.

They ate the rest of their dinner fairly quiet and each with one hand, the other staying connected like that. After protest from Barry, they decided to split the check. The mood lightened again when she took him to get dessert at an ice cream shop nearby. She told him how she would sometimes sneak there during work for a scoop of mint chip. He dropped the monster size cone he ordered as soon as they left the store and she lost it laughing at him, incidentally causing her to drop her own.

“Ha! Instant karma,” he said laughing at her. So they both went in and ordered again, confusing the teenagers working the counter though they accepted their money nonetheless.

“So,” he started once they were back on the street, ice cream safely in their bellies as they walked towards her apartment.

“So,” she echoed squeezing his hand.

“So, about this wedding…I think it’d probably be best if you weren’t flying in blind.”

She got a little nervous but nodded in agreement with a teasing smile on her face.

“Should I be worried?” She laughed but he stayed quiet. “You’re starting to freak me out, Bare.”

“You should know that I haven’t been home, or even spoken to my brother, in years,” he blurted out.

“Oh,” she said.

“And he’s marrying a girl I dated in high school.”

“Oh,” she repeated, beginning to understand why he was acting so strange during dinner, asking about her dad.

“And I caught them in bed together while we were still dating.”

“Holy shit.”

——

“Yeah, ” he said, stopping and turning to face her. He wasn’t trying to scare her but Cisco was right, she needed to know what she agreed to.

His brother, Malcolm, was four years older; he was smart, athletic, popular — he was Barry’s role model. But as they got older, his perfection took up more and more space. Admiration turned to disdain, and he became determined to create his own identity outside of the rather large shadow of the Malcolm Allen legacy.

Enter Becky Cooper, the first girl to choose Barry over Malcolm. She was his first love; they stayed together throughout childhood and high school — even planning to go to the same college. Barry loved Becky with every part of him and he knew in his gut they really would be “together forever”. Then, on the night of their graduation, Barry found her in bed with Malcolm. In that moment he could see his life shattering to pieces right before his eyes. Everything he knew, everything he wanted blew up in slow-motion. They tried to apologize, saying they didn’t plan it, saying that it just happened but he wouldn’t listen. That was the night he stopped speaking to his brother. He stayed with Cisco for the summer, unable to stand the sight of either of them and he only managed to last a month at school with her before transferring to State with Cisco.

The rest was history: Malcolm and Becky stayed together through her college years and while he went through med school. The last time Barry had seen either of them was at the annual Allen Christmas party three years prior. It was the first he attended since leaving for college and he brought Cindy and Cisco along as a buffer. The three of them stayed for an hour until he couldn’t take the perfect Allen act anymore. He’d otherwise locked away that part of his life, but now Malcolm and Becky were getting married and it felt like the past was coming back to deliver one hell of an

ass-kicking.

“Were you and her…serious?” she asked him.

_Only if you consider dating for six-and-a-half years, losing our virginities to each other, and talking about spending our lives together serious,_ he thought to himself.

“Kinda,” he said aloud, wincing. He didn’t want to give her anything to worry about — there wasn’t anything to worry about. Sure, he wasn’t exactly ready to be best friends with Malcolm and Becky, but he stopped having feelings for her that night. It was all in the past.

He saw Iris staring off, looking lost in her thoughts.

“Hey,” he said grazing her wrist with his fingers again. “I know this is a lot to drop on you and if you want to back out I won’t hold it against you.”

After a second she looked at him, taking his hand in hers.

“Of course I’m gonna be there for you, Bare. I mean you’d do the same for me, right?”

“I’d do anything for you, Iris,” he answered automatically. He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but once he heard the words ringing in the air he knew it was true.

They began to walk again, matching their strides in a relaxed, evening stroll. They had no where to be but with each other.

“Would you eat a cockroach for me?” She asked, grinning, between the sounds of their footsteps on the white lines of the crosswalk.

“I’d eat ten,” he replied upon reaching the other side.

“Gross.”

“Would you save the last brownie for me?”

She was quiet as the sounds of old breaks and tired bus transmissions filled the gap. By now the sun was finally dipping behind the buildings and the sweltering summer heat was beginning to break, though the evidence of the day’s weather was still everywhere — in the sweat stained shirts, the kids drenched from jumping in fountains, or the myriad of ponytails and updos. It seemed, too, that the summer months brought out a new life — a rare glimpse of aimless, unrestricted joy in the otherwise hardened city.

“Iris!?” He said, laughing incredulously at her silence.

“I’m thinking!”

Catching her off guard, he pulled her into a dramatic kiss. He tried his best to mimic those old, black and white movies he’d seen a million times. The ones where the man takes the woman in his arms, looks deep into her eyes, and dips her into a passionate, life-or-death smooch. They kissed for a solid ten seconds then he released her and kept walking, acting like nothing happened.

“Okay fine,” she said catching up to him. “We can share it.”

“You know what,” he said, reaching down to entangle their fingers, “that’s fine by me.”


	11. Chapter 11

“No, this one’s ‘too scorned ex-wife meets _The Bachelorette_ ’.”

Mari, Linda, and Iris had been out shopping for hours, looking for the right dress for the wedding. If she had it her way, Iris would’ve worn the same dress she wore to her office dinner party and Peterson’s son’s bar mitzvah, but Linda and Mari weren’t having it. They each took the afternoon off from work on Thursday, both citing some variation of a family emergency (“What?! You’re meeting his _family_ and this is most definitely an _emergency_ ,” Linda had justified), and practically dragged her into every store.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like getting new things to wear. Iris loved clothes. She just detested everything about shopping: the sales attendants constantly checking in on you, the long lines at the registers, and the dream crushing moment of finding the perfect thing for the perfect price only to try it on and find it doesn’t quite make it over your thighs or awkwardly squishes your upper arm fat like a pinched tube of Gogurt, inevitably making you feel just a tad shittier than when you’d first walked in. For those reasons about half her wardrobe was whatever she managed to borrow or steal from Linda.

“You need to look classy to impress the parents,” Mari told her. 

“And you definitely need to look hotter than his ex,” Linda said.

“Dude, she’s the bride,” Iris said as she walked back into the dressing room.

“Damn, this is messed up.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, hon?” Mari asked wearily.

“I mean…yes?…I don’t know you guys. I’m kind of freaking out. Is this crazy? We just got together, we haven’t even figured out what we really are yet and now I’m meeting his entire family AND his high school sweetheart? Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Iris shouted back, starting to panic as she walked out in a blue tea dress.

“Dude, listen to me,” Linda said as she and Mari moved to stand next to her in the mirror, “you care about Barry, right?”

“Of course I do,” she said to her friend’s reflection.

“And you want to be there for him?” Mari asked, zipping up the dress.

“Absolutely.”

“Well then, you’re gonna have to suck it up, look hot as hell, and stay by your man’s side, queen. Barry’s a good guy and he really cares about you. He’ll be there for you, too.”

“And if someone fucks with you, call us and we’ll come put some white people in their place,” Linda finished as two older white ladies passed by. “Hi, how are you. Love that blouse.” Linda said quietly to them.

After they’d gone the three women paused then burst into laughter.

“No, this isn’t it either. Try something else on,” Mari said, unzipping her before sending her back to change. Again.

“Speaking of, are you gonna be the only Black person at this thing? I mean driving out to the country with your white boyfriend — are we positive this isn’t a _Get Out_ type situation?” Mari asked. “Ow!” Iris could hear Linda smacking her from the dressing room.

“Mari stop it. Iris, it’s gonna be okay.”

“I don’t know. I mean I haven’t asked Barry. ”

Mari had a point and honestly the thought had crossed her mind. Not that his parents were gonna try to auction her off to old white people, exactly, but she wasn’t sure what kind of people his family were. Iris dated a white guy before, but they were never serious enough that he brought her home. She and Barry had never talked about it before. Was she the only Black woman he’d ever been with?

Iris stepped out of the dressing room wearing a dark green, flowy, floor length wrap dress. Looking at herself in the mirror she felt like a goddess.

“Whoa,” Mari said. “Your boobs look incredible.”

“I knowww” Iris agreed, marveling at her own cleavage.

_“_ It’s PERFECT. You look super classy and stupid hot,” Linda assured her. She moved closer to look at the tag. “And it’s on sale? It’s a sign. This weekend is gonna be great,” she said giving Iris a squeeze.

“Now go get changed. We still need to find you something for the rehearsal dinner and new underwear before we go to the salon.”

“What’s wrong with my underwear!?” Iris asked.

“Nothing, except you’re a grown woman who still buys all her panties from the Gap,” Mari said as she and Linda began to walk back out to the store.

“What’s wrong with the Gap?” She asked to no answer. “Guys? What’s wrong with the Gap!?”

——

After a lot of convincing, and a little bit of bribing — “I’ll watch the kid FOUR nights of your choosing” — Cisco and Cindy let Barry borrow their car for the weekend.It was an old, dark blue SUV with a broken radio and cracked leather seats. The AC only worked on the left side and — no matter how many times he cleaned it — it always vaguely smelled like the ash tray from a bingo hall, but it was the first car Cisco had ever bought. It was the third thing he loved most — after Sammy and Cindy, but before Barry.

“If you bring her back with even one scratch I will obliterate you,” he said, reluctantly handing Barry the keys. “Drive safe.”

Once Cisco allowed him to drive away Barry went back to the bar to pick up his bag and go over lock up procedures with his staff. He rarely went out of town; this was the longest he had ever been away in the two years he owned it. Even though he had faith in everyone who worked for him, he had a hard time leaving his place in the care of others. They were practically pushing him out the door by 4:30, assuring him that, yes, they would remember to wipe down the bar after last call and, yes, they would double (no, triple) check that all four locks were on before leaving. If he wasn’t already running five minutes late to pick up Iris he probably would’ve gone through procedure a few more times.

The bar drifted further from his mind as he got closer to her office. The drive was two hours, so they planned to go straight to the rehearsal dinner. His suit jacket was draped across the back seat with his neck tie. Barry only owned two ties, the other he wore the last time he was home. He felt bad that she had to change at the office even though she assured him on the phone it wasn’t a big deal. He had mentally prepared himself to circle the block for the next 15 minutes for a spot but a car parked out front was pulling out as he arrived. It was a tight space for the truck but he managed and texted Iris as soon as he put the car in park.

_Barry_ 5:04pm

> I’m downstairs!!

> Those exclamation points weren’t supposed to sound aggressive

> Just excited

> To clarify I meant “i’m downstairs, take your time there’s no rush, your amazing”

> *you’re I meant to write you’RE

He had to calm down. Usually when he was feeling this much anxiety he’d listen to some music, but the radio was busted. Only the CD player worked and he didn’t have the bandwidth to focus his attention on trying to find any of Cisco’s discs. He felt like his brain was yelling at his brain. Leaving the bar, inconveniencing Iris, seeing his family…he felt like he was drowning in it all and the last thing he needed was to scare her away with his anxious ramblings. He had a white knuckle grip on the wheel as he closed his eyes and pushed his head back into the headrest. He was on his second round of deep breathing when his phone buzzed.

_Iris_ 5:06pm

> Lol

> It’s okay Bare I’ll be down in a sec

> You’RE amazing too <3

He smiled at his phone and immediately felt calmer. His grip loosened and he tried to consider the positives. Sure, he wasn’t thrilled to be going back home, but he was excited for their first weekend away together. He wanted to share himself with her, to spend every moment he could with Iris. If that meant suffering through some unpleasant family time, he could take it.

He got out of the car with every intention of helping her with her bag, but froze as soon as she walked out the door. _Holy shit_. Now, Barry had never been a religious man, but the sight of Iris in that little black dress could make any man drop to his knees in prayer. It was form fitting, with no embellishments; nothing too flashy, but Iris made simple sexy. The thin straps and plunging neckline showed off her chest and he couldn’t stop staring at her bare neck — he had the urge to cover it with hickeys like a horny teenager. Forget Leia’s gold bikini, _this_ was straight out of a fantasy. He was so busy day-dreaming that he didn’t really notice her hair. This was the first time he’d seen it straight. It was long. 

“Wow,” he said quietly, still taking it all in as she came to a stop in front of him.

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” she said before a quick peck then wiped her lipstick off his mouth. “Hey, you shaved,” she felt his newly bare cheeks. “It’s nice.”

“Thanks.” He thought it gave him a baby face and he only shaved because he knew his mom’s passive aggressive comments about his scruff would be worse. But if Iris liked it he’d shave every morning. He took her overnight bag and threw it in the trunk with his.

“That’s quite a dress,” he said as soon as he got behind the wheel. He couldn’t stop staring at her chest. _Wowwowwowwowwowwow._

“You gonna be okay to drive?” She raised her eyebrows at him, flashing a dirty smile while she buckled her seatbelt.

“I don’t know, maybe we should go back to your place and I can get a better look at it. You know, get it out of my system?” He suggested, only half kidding.

“Tempting,” she said, “but we need to hit the road before we’re late.” She settled into her seat, pulling her water bottle out of her work bag.

“Fine,” he said as the engine turned over with a sputter, “just know you’re not only risking your safety, but mine too.”

After they merged onto the highway and he could turn off the GPS, Barry asked Iris to look through the glove compartment for the CDs Cisco usually had lying around.

“Okay, our options are _The Complete Instrumental Soundtrack of Commander Carl_ , _Elmo Sings the ABC’s–_ ”

“A banger,” Barry interjected.

“—or something called ‘DJ Cisco’s Summertime Jams’ with a bunch of flames drawn on the disc in Sharpie,” she reported back to Barry.

They were quiet for a second.

“DJ Cisco’s Summertime Jams,” they said in unison, immediately followed by Iris shouting, “Jinx!”. She fed it into the CD player, both of them dying to know what was on it. Other than it opening with an eighteen year old Cisco calling himself a “mixtape god” it was surprisingly sweet. It was filled with love songs: Motown, classic rock, big band standards, a little Etta James…Barry and Iris were singing the entire ride. She could hold a tune but Iris was no Beyoncé. He told her as much, trying to tease her, but got smacked on the arm instead. This was exactly what he needed. Good music, the road, and his favorite girl riding shotgun. For the moment his thoughts were silenced and he was completely present.

They’d been in the car for an hour and half. Resting their already sore throats, they sat listening to the music, watching as the landscape steadily morphed from urban to rural. That had always been his favorite part of long car rides home from trips to the city. He knew they were almost home when the bright city lights gave way to the wide open darkness and he could begin to make out the stars just beyond his faint reflection staring back at him. Each time he tried to count them but always ended up falling asleep with his face pressed up against the window, though, it never stopped him from trying again the next time.

“Hey,” she said as the song ended, turning down the radio before the next came on. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…and don’t get weird…but will I be the only Black person there this weekend?”

The atmosphere around him shifted, he was totally surprised. He hadn’t considered it at all, which made him feel terrible; just like that the floodgates opened and he was neck deep in anxious thoughts. Were there going to be other Black people there? He didn’t think his family was racist or anything, but they were still white people who lived in an area of mostly white people. What if they said something weird? Was it going to make her feel uncomfortable? Should they turn around? This was a bad idea, she was going to feel out of place and weird and it was all his fault and–

“I know this is kind of awkward. I mean, it’s okay if I am,” she continued. He listened to her, trying to shake off his thoughts. “I just want to know what to expect.”

He considered it a little more.

“Uh, I’m not sure. It’ll probably be a lot of my parents friends and our relatives, and they’re all old and white, so I’m guessing it won’t be that diverse.” He said it carefully, trying to be as politically correct as possible. “Iris if anyone makes you feel uncomfortable tell me and I’ll take care of it.” He said it with a little bit of preemptive anger. If anyone so much as looked at her funny, he knew he would lose it.

“You’re sweet, Bare.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t think about it,” he said, mentally berating himself. “I should’ve thought about it.”

“Well why would you have?” He knew she wasn’t saying it to be mean but he still felt a little stung. “I mean you’re a white guy; you don’t really have to think about it.”

She was right, but he felt a bit uncomfortable. He hadn’t considered that their relationship would be any different because she was Black or, for that matter, because he was white. What else was he missing, and how could he figure it out before he lost her?

“But, thank you for listening to me, Bare,” she told him, reaching over to lightly touch his leg. Saying anything else felt wrong to him, she needed to have the last word on this. He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it sweetly. The environment of the car felt calmer, though not quite restored.

A moment passed and Iris took her hand back to turn up the volume of the radio.

“I love this song,” she said above the familiar bass line. More of the lingering tension melted away. He looked over at her, beating the dashboard along to the rhythm.

“ _I’ve got sunshinnee, on a cloudy day_ ,” he sang along loudly as Iris shook her head, laughing at him. “ _When it’s cold out-siiiiidee, I’ve got the month of May._ ” Barry sang out in his best Temptations impression. His voice cracked a little making her laugh harder. He turned up the music even louder to match his volume.

_“_ You’re such a dork!” She yelled over the blasting radio.

“ _I guess, you’d say. What can make me feel this way_ ” he shot a goofy look at her as he replaced “ _my girl_ ” with “IRIS”. “ _Talkin’ ‘bout_ Irrrisss!” She smiled so wide it made her cheeks scrunch up her eyes into crescent moons and the golden light of the late afternoon cast her in a radiant glow; he wanted to keep that image of her in his mind forever. Barry couldn’t keep it up so he turned down the volume, sparing his vocal chords, but he kept humming along as she held his hand in her lap, blindly drawing a map over the back of his fingers.

The song faded out and Cisco’s voice came on over the speaker.

“Hey baby, I hope you liked this CD I made for you. I’m gonna miss you this summer and I can’t wait to see you next semester.”

“Aww, that’s so swe–”

“I’m gonna be thinking about your body and the way yo–”

Barry yanked his hand from Iris' in a rush to eject the disc, throwing it into the backseat where it couldn’t hurt him anymore. She looked at him, clearly confused by his reaction. “I accidentally caught a few of the live shows in college and I definitely don’t need to relive that,” he explained to Iris.

“Good call.”

——

Twenty minutes later they pulled up to the Elk Woods Country Club. It was an enormous brick house with white trimmings and a few chimney stacks on the roof. The doors were framed by four white columns — two on each side — giving the place a stately air. It was an intimidating sight. Iris could make out a golf course behind the building but, other than that, they were surrounded by the woods on all sides. It was starting to get dark, making the venue feel even more isolated. She tried not to think about it too much. She put on her lipstick and smoothed out her hair in the mirror, praying the rehearsal dinner was inside so that the humid August air wouldn’t ruin her blowout. She helped Barry put on his tie, each making sure the other was put together.

“You ready to do this?” He asked, offering his hand.

“Are you?” She replied, interlocking their fingers.

Barry led her through the ornate lobby towards the back of the building. They were twenty-five minutes late and it seemed like they were the last to arrive. They walked into an elegant dining room accented in blue and cream. Crystal chandeliers hung from the tall ceilings, illuminating the space in crisp white light.A jazz band played as people mingled around tall tables. A few people — mostly men — hovered by the bar in the corner. Servers in black tie circulated plates of h’ordeuvres and flutes of champagne. As she surveyed the room she saw one older Black man, a youngerwoman who was Asian, and another who looked like she might be Latina. Everyone else was white and looked to be either in their thirties or above sixty. Iris started to feel uncomfortable with the plunging neck line of her dress and how form fitting it was. She wished she had a shawl to cover up. It was too sexy for a country club, for meeting his parents. 

“Maybe we should get a drink first,” Barry offered, looking as nervous as she felt.

She nodded and he started to direct her toward the bar until an older woman stopped them, calling out, “Bartholomew, is that you?”

“Aunt Evelyn, hi,” he said leaning down to kiss her. Bartholomew? Iris had to fight to keep a straight face. His aunt pinched his cheeks — with his shaven face it made him look like a little boy.

“Aunt Evelyn,” Barry moved back from the old woman so she could see her. “This is my girlfriend, Iris.” She noticed him say it without hesitation. It was the first time he’d called her that and, truthfully, it sat a little funny in her stomach.

“Wonderful to meet you, dear,” she said covering Iris' hand with both of hers. 

“Likewise. That’s a beautiful broach,” Iris said in a voice she hoped sounded sweet rather than timid. 

The woman studied Iris for a second, making her question her dress choice again.

“Hold on to this one Bartholomew, she’s a looker,” his aunt finally said, making her face heat up.

“I plan to,” he said, looking at Iris like she was the only woman in the room. It made her face feel even warmer.

“You two are adorable. You know he’s named after my late brother Bartholomew, a great man. How long has it been since I last saw you? It’s been too long, Bartholomew,”she said redirecting her attention back to him. The woman talked with her hands and nearly knocked a tray of mini quiches from a server’s hand.

“It has. I’m going to take Iris to get a drink, Aunt Evelyn. I’ll come find you later to catch up,” he said taking her hand again. The older woman had barely managed to get out a “you better” before Barry continued on his path to the bar, pulling Iris behind him. He maneuvered them around the large room, zipping past the innocuous mingling at the assorted dining tables.

“My grandmother’s sister,” he explained once they arrived. “She’s sweet but if you don’t cut her off she’ll talk forever.” He said a brief hello to a couple men in their fifties and their younger wives, introducing her as his girlfriend each time.

He got the bar tender’s attention and ordered them two whiskeys before stuffing a few bills in the tip jar.

“Shit, I didn’t even ask if that’s what you wanted,”he said with a surprising amount of frustration. He looked genuinely distraught over it. “I’m so sorry, Iris.”

“Honey, it’s okay,” she said rubbing circles into his back. “Just breathe.”

She knew that it was a hard night for him but she had no idea he would feel this flustered. She wanted so badly to wrap him up in a hug and keep him safe from whatever might hurt him.

“We only have to make it through a few hours of this. Then it’ll just be us again.”

She watched him close his eyes and take two deep breaths.Iris reached up to brush his floppy hair away from his forehead and he leaned into her touch, seeming to steady for a moment. All around them there was steady, polite chatter among the guests, dressed in neat suits and dresses. The only exception was a group of people, around their age, clustered together near the dance floor, accounting for the majority of the noise and an occasional burst of spirited yells and laughter. They reminded her of high school, like popular kids sequestering themselves in the auditorium, a party within a party.

He opened his eyes again and handed her one of the drinks, looking a little better.

“Only a few hours, then it’s you, me, and that dress.” He said flirtatiously as he dragged his gaze down her body.

That was the thing about Barry; one second he was a shy, nerdy, goofball and the next he was this sexy, totally confident guy. She could never guess what was coming with him. Tonight, though, it felt a little different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, exactly, but as soon as they got out of the car he was all business — still swinging between shy and confident but that underlying humor that she loved about him was gone; it made her worry a little more.

They each took a sip of their drinks and for a fleeting second she wondered if they could get away with hiding out there, in there own little universe for the rest of the night, though she knew it was useless.

“I think we should go find your parents before it seems like we’re avoiding them,” she said resolutely, putting her glass down on the bar. They were in the far corner of the ballroom, secluded from the other partygoers.

He put his glass down too, reaching his hand around her waist and pulling her closer. The move was a little clumsy and she kind of stumbled into him but he wasn’t phased.

“In a second. I can’t do this in front of my parents.” She wanted to make fun of the cheesy line but before she could he leaned down and kissed her slowly. He brought his free hand up to caress her face as he parted her lips with his tongue. His touch was a little rougher than usual but exciting nonetheless. Between the drink and Barry she felt like she was burning up.

It took her a moment to catch her breath once he let go.

“Um,” she fumbled, looking around to see if anyone saw while waiting for words to return to her. “You must really like this dress.” His eyes hadn’t moved from her lips.

He paused half a beat too long. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I might love that dress.” His eyes moved to hers and his grip tightened. The lust she had seen there a second ago turned to something softer, more vulnerable, that she couldn’t quite decipher.

Before she could say anything else she noticed a couple approaching their little corner of the party in her peripherals. Barry must have seen them too as his attention snapped to them. He released Iris suddenly, throwing her off yet again. She turned to look at them as they came closer.

The man was about Barry’s height with a head of thick brown hair; though a smattering of grays were beginning to take over around his temples, it was otherwise incongruent to his weathered face and slightly sunken eyes. He looked stolid and walked with confidence, with one hand in his pocket. Next to him walked his wife, Iris assumed, with her hand resting in the crook of his elbow. She was a beautiful woman, clearly older but, unlike her husband, her face was pleasant and full. Her intense eyes were softened by the hint of smile lines that somehow added to her youthful look. Her hair was a brilliant red and tucked neatly into an elegant up-do piled on her head like a crown. Together, they looked regal in their formal wear. It, too, was an intimidating sight.

“Hey, Mom. Dad.” Barry said without moving from his spot.

“Hey, Slugger,” his dad offered, hands still in his pockets while his mom wrapped her son into a warm hug. She pulled away and looked him over like she couldn’t believe he was real, like he might disappear into thin air at any second and she was trying to commit his adult face to memory. It was kind of heartbreaking. Iris noticed she and her son had the same big green eyes with the same flecks of gold interspersed like the reflection of a sunset on a murky, green river. She thought it was absurd that there was more than one person walking around with eyes like that. Watching the three of them, standing together, she saw how he was a perfect mixture of them both.

After a long moment, his mother finally turned her attention from him to Iris.

“And you must be Patty.”

Iris choked on her spit. _What?_ Her mind drew a blank.

“Mom, no, no this is Iris,” Barry rushed in. “My–my girlfriend.”

“Oh my goodness,” his mom realized her mistake and looked genuinely concerned. “I am so sorry, sweetheart. Iris,” she said her name firmly, as she grasped her hands. “It is so wonderful to meet you.” She pulled Iris into a tight hug. It was evident Barry came by his warm and welcoming demeanor honestly.

“Don’t worry about it at all, Mrs. Allen. Thank you so much for having me.”

“Please, call me Nora.”

Nora cleared her throat and lightly elbowed her husband.

“It’s-uh, nice to meet you, Iris,” he finally said with a slight nod of acknowledgment. Iris didn’t miss that he still hadn’t touched Barry. He didn’t continue, instead turning to the bartender and ordering himself a scotch. Nora seemed disappointed as she watched her husband with trepidation. Barry had gone quiet but seemed unsurprised by his father’s temperament.

“We were actually just on our way to find you both,” Iris said, trying to keep the conversation flowing. She was focused on Nora, who she was beginning to look to as a beacon of peace in the otherwise tumultuous family.

“I’m sure you were,” Henry said, just loud enough to be heard, as he reached for his drink. Iris felt Barry tense up beside her at the comment. “How long’s it been since we last saw you, Slugger? Two years? Three?” He took a sip of his scotch without breaking eye contact with his son.

“Henry.” Nora it said to her husband in a warning tone.

“What?” He brushed it off with a forced laugh. “It’s good to see you, son,” he said as he raised his glass in mock surrender. Barry didn’t say anything in response, he just watched his father drink. Nora looked frustrated with both of them.

“Why don’t we all go sit down? Dinner’s about to start.” Nora said, placing her hand back on Henry’s arm. “Iris, have you met Barry’s brother?”

Iris smiled, not quite sure how to navigate through the crossfire she’d been thrust into.

“No, not yet.”

“Well come on, we’ll introduce you,” Nora said as she herded the group back into the center of the room, where the group of twenty and thirty-somethings congregated towards one of the tables in the front.

Iris took Barry’s hand in hers, trying to comfort him and remind him she was there. At first he was unresponsive. He allowed her to touch him but didn’t acknowledge it like he normally would. She couldn’t really blame him for seeming so lost; they’d only spoken to his father for a couple minutes and she was already exhausted. After a second he squeezed back, letting her know that somewhere, behind those chilled eyes, he was still there.

In a distant part of her consciousness she felt Nora’s arm around her shoulder. They’d arrived at the head table.

“Iris, this is my oldest son, Malcolm,” she said with a smile, squeezing her arms for emphasis. “Malcolm, this is Barry’s girlfriend, Iris.”

He was exactly what you picture when you think of the all-American, small-town success story. Like Barry, he had the same brown hair as their father, which he was wearing pushed back with gel. He was about an inch taller. Where Barry was lean and toned, Malcolm was broad and buff — like he used to be a football player but still managed to keep up with workouts. He and his father wore the same dark eyes, but otherwise the brothers shared more or less of the same facial features. Except, she realized, for the freckles. Those belonged only to Barry.

“My little brother has good taste,” he said with a charming, perfectly white smile. Iris knew that pissed Barry off. She quickly reached back to grab his wrist just in time to feel his tendons constrict when his hand balled up to a fist. Malcolm leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, then turned to face Barry.

“You made it!” He brought Barry in for a strong hug, clapping him on the back. He was much louder than Barry, he didn’t move with Nora’s easy grace.

Barry smiled a bit strained at his brother in response.

“I can’t believe I have both my boys with me,” Nora said looking at her sons standing together in their suits. She shook her head, looking like the weight of melancholy was heavily pulling down on her.

“Where did the time go?” She asked in a faraway voice. It was obvious to Iris that Nora loved her family more than anything. The Allens, standing all together, were beautiful. _They could be the poster family for America_ , Iris thought to herself.

“Becky!” Malcolm shouted, “Look who’s here, babe.” Iris swore she saw Barry flinch at that.

The bride-to-be turned from a group of her friends (bridesmaids, if Iris had to guess) at her fiancé’s call. In the thousands of times in the last week Iris had pictured Becky she’d always imagined a cute, blonde, little cheerleader type. Pale with light eyes and a few freckles, maybe. The real Becky was much, much worse. She wore a beige dress that would make the average woman look like she was going on safari, but on this Amazonian goddess the shade perfectly complimented her striking olive skin. Her dark hair was pinned back from her face, showing off her sparkling, amber feline eyes—like, they were actually sparkling. She excused herself from her friends and floated over to Malcolm’s side with a champagne flute in hand.

“Barry!” She exclaimed with a smile and a hug. _Hugging’s big with these people_ , Iris thought.

“Hi, Becky,” Barry choked out. Iris realized this was the first thing he’d said since leaving the bar. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that. 

“I haven’t seen you in forever! How’s your bar? How’s Cisco?” She asked him excitedly. Her voice was fucking melodic.

“It’s good, he’s good. He and his wife had a baby,” Barry answered her without going into details. He looked like he was on another planet; his eyes hadn’t left hers since she walked over making Iris feel like a third wheel.

“That’s good,” Becky said, looking at Barry warmly. They held each other’s gaze for a beat longer than Iris would’ve liked.

“Babe,” Malcolm interrupted, reminding them all where they were. “This is Barry’s date, Iris”, he announced, squeezing Becky’s side. He was like a big golden retriever.

“Iris! It’s so nice to meet you,” she said sweetly. Another hug. Becky was tall like the rest of Barry’s family — they all had to look down to make eye contact with Iris, even in her heels. They were all so immaculate, like a prepackaged set and she the replacement part that didn’t quite match. Forget third, she was beginning to feel like a sixth wheel about to wobble loose from its axle. Iris cleared her throat.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. Everything is so beautiful, Becky. You look stunning,” she said turning up the charm to a full out eleven. You could say a lot of things about Iris West but improper home training was not one of them. “Thank you for letting me be a part of your special day.”

“Aw, thanks. Any friend of Barry’s is a friend of mine, we’re both so happy to have you,” Becky said back in her songbird voice. She threaded her arm through her fiancé’s so they matched Henry and Nora who’d since gone off to greet other guests. Iris waited for Barry to correct her but he didn’t so she let the moment pass without saying anything either. Iris looked up at him. His face was somehow a shade paler, like he’d seen a ghost, and his stare still fixed on Malcolm and Becky. She tried to shake off the barrage of messy feelings, deciding now was absolutely not the time for friendly fire.

Once introductions were over, and everyone had taken their seats, dinner was served. She sat between Aunt Evelyn, who was sweet as could be but wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise, and Barry, who was still catatonic and showed no sign of recovering. There was a slide show of pictures projected on a screen set up in front of the band as they ate.

Pictures from their childhood, a couple with Barry, though most from college and beyond played out in a montage set over an indie pop song about finding “the one” and “dancing forever”. Iris tried not to judge too much, but it definitely wasn’t for her. All of the fanfare and parading wasn’t much her style; if there was a world in which she could ever see herself getting married, she thought, everything would be simple. Good friends, good food, and good music. She thought back to when she was still just a kid, when she went to her big cousin’s wedding, on a summer day like this, held in some other family member’s backyard. All she could really remember was running around with all her cousins, Wally desperately trailing behind them trying to catch up, and everyone packed onto the dance floor celebrating until well past their bedtimes. Maybe her childhood memories cast the day in an idyllic hue, but she honestly felt like it was one of the best days of all of their lives; truly a celebration of love and family. Just a little different from the country club scene. 

She brought herself from her thoughts as she continued to watch the photos. Apparently Becky and Malcolm were _that_ couple. They went from childhood friends to lovers; they stuck together through college and med school. Hearing their friends make speeches, she could tell they were funny and generous and always all over each other. They were the kind of couple that went to the gym together and went backpacking in Thailand on a whim one summer, but she couldn’t deny they seemed sweet under that perfect exterior. After Becky’s sorority sisters finished their painful rap and choreographed dance, the toasts concluded and dessert was served. Malcolm stood, clinking his glass with his cake covered fork to get the crowd’s attention.

“Now you guys know I’m not one for speeches,” a couple of his buddies jeered and laughed at that, and Malcolm sarcastically shrugged. “But tonight” he continued, “is a special occasion.” He grabbed Becky’s hand, looking down at her like she really was his everything.

“Babe, you have been with me through it all. You knew me at my lowest, before I was a doctor, when I was in 8th grade and I thought it would look cool to have a Mr. T mohawk.” The crowd laughed. “And somehow you still decided you were into me. Becky, you’ve been patient with me and you’ve supported me through everything. You’re smart…you’re funny…you are without a doubt the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Iris watched Becky dramatically shake her head at him and blush while their friends cheered.

“You are everything a guy could possibly want and I’m lucky that I get to call you mine. Babe, I am so excited to stand up in front of all these people tomorrow and make this thing official, even though, I think we both know that we’ve always belonged to each other.”

Iris looked over at Barry. His face was completely blank. She had no idea what he was thinking.

“I love you, babe. Cheers!” Malcolm leaned down to kiss Becky and the dining room erupted with applause.

Barry was spaced out, staring off at nothing and Iris felt that nagging, pang of jealousy again. She resolved to try to shelf the feeling for now — she wanted to be there for him, to be his tether back to himself. She reached down and put a hand on hiseerily still leg beneath the table.

“Hey,” she whispered to him when he didn’t acknowledge her. “I’m right here.” She held her breath and willed him to just turn his head and look at her, give her some sign that they were in this together. In this crowded ballroom, surrounded by people, Iris felt adrift on a lonely ice flow that was quickly melting.

Finally, she felt his hand come to rest atop hers. He gave her a weak smile.

“I know.”

He put his arm around her, pulling her in close so that her head came to rest in that familiar nook between his neck and his shoulder. Talking to her for the first time in hours, he whispered discreetly into her ear, “wanna get out of here?”

She nodded slightly as relief rushed into her. It was small but in that moment it was everything. They stood and began their goodbyes, walking hand in hand as they went. She noticed he didn’t stop to say anything to his brother or his father or Becky, not that she minded. Finally, they made their way over to Nora who sat at a table, chatting with a few other women near the door.

“Hey mom, I think we’re gonna head out,” he told her. “Iris was at work all day so I want to get her to bed.”

At this point guests were milling around, making small talk. A few were dancing, some went back to the bar for refills.

“Oh of course. I made up your bedroom and you know where the towels are. We probably won’t be home for a little while. You still have your key, right?”

“Yep. We’ll see you at the house.”

He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

“My beautiful boy,” she said, holding his face before he pulled back. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

Not that Nora would ever admit it, but Iris was positive Barry was her favorite. She told Nora goodnight before they finally walked out of the room, the sound of a brassy trumpet and chit-chat spilling over into the foyer as the double doors slowly closed behind them.

They walked out of the country club with their hands still clasped together. A part of her was scared to let him go again, like he might not come back. He was still clearly shaken, but with every step away from the party he became a little more Barry-like.

“So…” she started while they waited for the valet to pull around the old car. “Bartholomew, huh?”

He laughed for the first time all night.

“Bartholomew Henry Allen. Definitely not the easiest name for a kid. I couldn’t spell it until I was seven.”

She put a hand on his chest.

“It kinda suits you.” Iris kissed him as their beat-up, old car came to a stop behind another guest’s souped-up Jag.

She didn’t realize how tired she was until they got back in the car, taking off her heels as soon as she was sitting, and thankful to finally have relief from Linda’s pinching shoes. She discarded them in the back with her bag, and brought her feet up on the seat, her knees resting against the window. Tall pines lined the road, blocking out the moonlight so that it was pitch-black, and the only light came from the nearly burned out headlights and bluish-green of the illuminated clock display. All at once she dozed off in the quiet, thinking of how it was like they were on submarine, navigating miles beneath the surface, as they drove along the winding roads. The next thing she knew the car was in park and Barry was lifting her from the passenger seat. Not wanting to ruin the moment, she kept her eyes closed, letting Barry carry her to the house. He climbed the stairs, holding her like she weighed nothing, finally laying her down gingerly on a bed.

She waited to hear him walk away before she opened her eyes again. He wasn’t in the dark room — she guessed he went to the bathroom. Alone, she stood up and walked along the creaking wood floor to turn on the lamp in the corner. She looked around as the soft yellow light flooded the room. It was a big space with a low, pointed ceiling. Band posters covered the walls: Sonic Youth, Weezer, The Pixies… _what a sad boy_ , Iris thought to herself with an enamored smile. He had a huge bookshelf overflowing with books that she was sure were all filled with his chicken scratch annotations. Scanning the titles she couldn’t discern any clear pattern. He had the classics, interspersed with a few comic books (there was her nerd), he had biographies, poetry anthologies, fiction, books on history, politics, math, science, art…Iris had always considered herself somewhat of a bibliophile, but his library put hers to shame. Most of their spines were cracked from being read too many times; she could just imagine him as a teenager, hiding in his room surrounded by his books, the space filled with loud, angsty music.

A couple notebooks laid on his dresser, she picked one up to skim through. Page after page she found incredibly detailed sketches and portraits, including one of a seemingly high-school-aged Cisco contemplating something while looking off into the distance. She was struck by how precise the drawing was; Barry had perfectly captured the light falling on his dark hair and how he chewed his lip in thought. She flipped to another page and found labeled studies of flowers and insects. These he’d colored with various tools: some marker, some color pencil, some pen. Still, another page consisted of detailed figures with flowers growing out of their faces in a grotesque manor. She couldn’t stop herself from scanning each page, eager to see what else he could do. In between the drawings were these long journal entries — some half ripped out, others entirely scratched out. Despite the burning questions building up in her brain, Iris stopped herself from reading any of them, deciding that those were private.

She was still flipping through when she heard the floorboards creaking somewhere behind her.

“Hey, I thought you’d be passed out,” he said.

“You’re an artist.”

Iris looked up from the journal at him. He had taken off his tie and unbuttoned his collar, which was a little wet from washing his face. She watched him while he walked toward her, trying to undo his cufflinks. It was the most grown up she’d ever seen him look. That suited him too, she thought.

“I don’t know about ‘artist’. I like to doodle,” he said bashfully.

“These are not just doodles, Bare. You’re so talented.”

He continued to approach her without a response. Despite herself she began to feel nervous, like a swarm of unruly butterflies fluttered wildly in her stomach. She kept talking.

“All the books, the sketches…the whole sexy, misunderstood artist thing…” She spoke slowly, but in a teasing voice. “Does it work just as easily on all the other girls?”

“What other girls?”

More of those damn butterflies.

He finally got the cufflinks out as he stopped in front of her, a stray lock of hair dangling over his eyebrow. His hair was a little longer than from when they’d first met but she kind of liked it. He reached around either side of her to rest his hands on the dresser, caging her in. She hugged the notebook to her chest in response. Without her heels she was at least a head shorter than him. He leaned down slowly, coming in close so that his face was an inch from hers.

She closed her eyes and leaned in to meet him.

“Stop snooping, Ace,” he whispered, then in one swift move slid the notebook out of her hands and backed out of her reach with a devilish smile.

She rolled her eyes at him.

She sat on his bed to go through her bag in search of her pajamas. Iris watched as Barry stepped out of his shoes then walked over to the stereo in the corner of his room in his socks. He squatted, sifting through the box of cassettes he had on the floor. Finally, finding one he was happy with, he stood up, placed it in the tape deck, hit play, and turned up the volume. As the music crackled over the old speakers he walked over to her, offering Iris his hand.

“Dance with me.”

They never had a chance to at the dinner.

She put the clothes aside and accepted his invitation, letting him pull her up from the bed to her feet. He placed a guiding hand on the small of her back as the slow piano chords rang out in to the room, the smooth voice crooning, “ _Don’t cry, little girl, ‘cause I’m so far away. Don’t worry about me, I’m not going to stay.”_

_“_ High school Barry was bumping William Bell?” She asked, pleasantly surprised.

“High school Barry had layers,” he said playfully. The worn floorboards beneath the rug creaked as they moved together.

“My dad used to play him for us after dinner sometimes,” she said aloud, not necessarily to Barry.

She always loved listening to those old records, lying on the rug with Wally — their dad singing along with his silky baritone voice. Every time her father would ask her mother to dance, and every time she would say yes. She and her brother would lay on their bellies just watching them glide around the living room. Watching her parents dance together, Iris knew what she was seeing was love. Dancing with Barry felt like being back in that living room.

“ _To bring me back to you, and I’ll hold you in my arms. We’ll be together forever…_ ” the song droned on.

She moved her arms to his back, laying her head to rest against his chest.

In a soft, sweet voice he sang down into her ear, “ _believe me when I say, love will find a way_.” In the other she could hear the echo of his heartbeat and the shift of his breathing when it caught in his chest. They were barely moving any more, just swaying along, even as the song changed. Her heart was so full.

Iris felt Barry come to a stop. She looked up to find him already staring down at her.

“I’m sorry I was so distant and weird tonight.” He said it quietly, like a shameful confession.

“It’s okay, Bare.”

“It’s not,” he said a little harshly. “I know it’s not.” He swallowed. “I’m so happy you came with me. And-and I know we haven’t been together that long…”

She held her breath, not sure where he was going. Not sure where she wanted him to go.

“Iris I never want you to feel like I take you for granted. Not ever…” he trailed off again.

“I know you don’t, Bare,” she said to him softly, finding his eyes to communicate that she believed him. He looked a little lost again, but she could tell it was different; this time he was stuck in separate thoughts from those keeping them apart at the rehearsal dinner.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he admitted.

“Honey, I’m not going anywhere,” she quietly assured him with a smile. Iris stood on her toes to kiss him. She thought a little before taking a leap. “No one could ever take me from you, Bare.”

That broke him. Barry pulled her closer against his body, kissing her with a hunger. He unzipped the back of her dress.

“Off, off,” he murmured urgently against her neck, pulling the fabric down her torso. She pushed him away to finish taking off the dress. He fumbled with the rest of the buttons on his shirt — she heard a few pop off in his rush.

She reached for his belt buckle while he ran his hands down her back. It was challenging work as he was more consumed with pulling off her underwear, carelessly tossing them somewhere off to the side. Once she finally got it, he wasted no time bringing her down to the bed to cover her body in kisses. It made her squirm to feel his lips on her stomach, her thighs, her chest, her collarbones; she wondered if he did it for her pleasure or if it was more so out of his own need.

When he returned to her mouth he finally slowed down to look at her. She was already naked but the way he looked at her so carefully made her burn with vulnerability. She tried to hide her face by kissing his neck but he wouldn’t let her. She dropped her head back to the bed with frustration. Not able to keep still, she raked a hand through his hair and studied his face, hoping to communicate every nameless feeling he evoked in her with a simple touch. His green irises looked impossibly greener against his bloodshot, tired eyes. Staring up from underneath him in the low light of his childhood bedroom, Iris could see the past, the present, and maybe even the future in Barry all at once. She wondered what he saw.

He dragged his thumb delicately across her lips, pinning her down with his content gaze. As if he heard her questioning thoughts he answered, “my beautiful, beautiful Iris.”


	12. Chapter 12

Barry woke in a panic. He looked over at his nightstand at his old _Commander Carl_ alarm clock. _3:02am_. He had only been asleep for an hour. It took him a second to remember why he was in his old room, and even then he wasn’t put back at ease. He reached out a hand to the place beside him only to feel the sheets. He turned over to look and found his bed empty.

“Iris?” He called into the darkness, sitting up. When he didn’t hear a response he pulled on his boxers and a sweatshirt to search for her. In the hall, he saw the lights shinning out from the slightly ajar bathroom door. He peeked in to see Iris sitting on the edge of the clawfoot tub in one of his old t-shirts from high school. It was his Jane’s Addiction shirt, his favorite. It hung loose on her frame, reaching down to her thighs — she must have grabbed it from the dresser. It unexpectedly filled his chest with pride to see her in it. Iris was barefaced, having already taken off her make-up, staring at herself in the mirror, mechanically combing through her dark hair. He couldn’t get over how long it was, how straight it was. Barry had been so distracted all night he didn’t stop to really take it all in. It made her look so different; _not better_ , he thought, _just different_.

He watched her in silence. An onlooker might have thought it a little Bates Motel-ish, but he didn’t mean it like that. Throughout the short lifetime they’d known each other, they were usually up and in motion. Iris especially was usually like a kid with a sugar rush. She was the queen of multitasking, which wasn’t to say that she ever made him feel unimportant. On the contrary, she was a natural caretaker, always carrying so much for everyone that he noticed she often put her own sanity on the back-burner. Moments like this where she was so still and doing something just for herself were rare. Moments when he could sit back and just watch her be. He was quickly learning to cherish them.

He could hear her humming the song they danced to as she worked. The memory made him smile. If Iris hadn’t been there with him tonight, Barry wasn’t sure what he would’ve done. He loved seeing his mom but he couldn’t say that she alone could have made him stay, not with his dad, Becky, and Malcolm there. His fists involuntarily balled up at the thought of Malcolm. The way his brother looked at Iris made his blood boil. He didn’t even say hello to her. And how uncomfortable she looked when he “complimented” her. “ _My little brother has good taste_ ”. He wanted to throw his brother into a wall and take Iris as far away as possible where Malcolm couldn’t ruin her. He could still hear her humming.

He thought about seeing Becky. She looked…like Becky: always calm, always poised, always sweet. She more or less looked the same as she did in high school which only made it sting that much more. He hated himself for how he felt around her, how he _still_ felt around her even after all this time. How his breath still caught in his throat, how he could still recall every lingering touch, every kiss, every look they ever shared with total clarity. No matter how much time passed, Becky had a way of worming back into his brain.

The humming stopped and he heard the tap of plastic to marble as Iris put down the comb. _No_ , he thought. It was different now. That was done; he and Becky were in the past now.

He watched Iris balance one foot on the edge of the tub where she’d been sitting and begin to spread lotion on her leg. A fresh wave of guilt washed over him. It had to be different now. He knew she felt ignored during the party, even if she wouldn’t admit it. He meant it when he told her he didn’t know what he would do without her. Being back at home for this wedding, in the midst of his own personal hell, there was Iris. She gave him strength. This woman was becoming his everything in the most dangerous way.

His original plan was to go back to bed, now that he knew where she was, and wait for her. But he was feeling too antsy and, admittedly, a little clingy and didn’t want to be without her for another second, so he knocked lightly. She jumped a little at the sound.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said to her as he entered the bathroom. He stayed by the hall, leaning up against the doorway to give her some space.

“Hi,” she smiled a little shyly at him. “What are you doing up?”

He shrugged.

“Bed was getting cold without you.”

She rolled her eyes at him, as she so often did, but he knew she liked his corniness.

“Grandma Esther would turn over in her grave if she knew I went to bed without taking off my makeup,” she said to her reflection as she rubbed cream into her face and neck.

The light, blush color of her nails sharply contrasted against her warm brown face. Her skin was always so soft. He loved the sensation of brushing his lips against her, not even in a kiss, but just to feel it. He loved the random moles and birth marks scattered across her, especially the one just behind her right ear that kind of looked like a little, lopsided heart if he squinted. If he had to pick, that one was his favorite. His eyes traveled down to the pale stretch marks on her hips and thighs though the view was obstructed by the t-shirt. She always seemed a little self-conscious when he traced them but he couldn’t figure out why—they reminded him of a beautiful little lightning storm. Every inch of her inspired awe in him. He looked back up at the reflection of her face, now a little glossy from the cream under the bathroom lights, intently watching herself. Never in his life did he think he’d be jealous of a mirror.

Once she seemed to be satisfied with that, she went back to her hair, using her teeth to open a tiny, zigzag looking pin. He watched her, mesmerized, as she methodically worked to pin back sections of her combed hair, so that it looked like an ocean swell, wrapping it around her head as she went. Her movements were mechanic but at the same time artful. Her face was surprisingly relaxed as she worked, and he wondered if this was something she did often.

Putting the last pin in place, she finally caught him staring, startling him a bit. He grabbed the back of his neck out of slight embarrassment but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she reached into one of the toiletry bags she had on the counter and pulled out a folded piece of fabric.

Iris looked over her shoulder at him.

“Wanna help me?”

Wordlessly, he nodded and his feet carried him to stand next to her at the sink.

She unfolded the fabric and held it up a little higher for him to see. It was black, and looked kind of like a stretched out bandana with long ends.

“Do you know what this is?”

He shook his head no.

“Okay, this is my satin scarf. I wear it to sleep when I have my hair pressed,” she must have noticed his brief confusion, “or, um, straightened, so friction doesn’t mess it up. Basically it keeps it looking nice and neat for longer.” She spoke in a teacher voice, but seemed happy to explain this little part of herself to share with him.

“So here,” she put the scarf in his hands and pointed to the edge, “put this part a little more than halfway up my forehead. Parallel to my hairline.”

He followed her instructions, quickly self correcting when the fabric fell down in her face, and moved to drape it back over her head instead. They both laughed at it. He loved being so close to her smiley face.

“Good job,” she told him, still laughing. “Now, make sure its even lengths on both sides and then take those two ends and bring them around the back of my head, going over my ears. And make sure to cross them over the scarf in the back so a triangle is hanging down.”

He bit his tongue between his teeth in concentration, doing as he was told. Barry felt her hands coming to rest underneath his arms, on the back of his shoulders, so that they stood in a slightly tangled embrace. He could feel her fingers unconsciously moving back and forth against his sweatshirt. He moved in closer so that his stomach just brushed up against her chest.

Crossing the ends in each hand at the back of her head it suddenly occurred to him, “Is that too tight?”

“Just a little.”

He readjusted the scarf to make it a little looser, then pressed an apologetic kiss to the top of her head through the fabric.

“How about now?”

“It’s perfect,” she said with tenderness in her voice. This was clearly important to her, which made it important to him. That she would let him into this was bigger than some other routine, and he could feel it. She cleared her throat, “now just tie it in the front.”

He carefully tied a neat bow then released her to make her adjustments: tucking in the dangling fabric, retying the knot so it laid a bit flatter, untucking her ears.

After putting on her glasses, she gave him a look when she again found him staring.

“What?” she asked, pushing the frames up, then scrunching her nose a little in the cutest way.

“I want to make sure I get it right next time” he explained.

Just saying “next time” made him feel warm all over with reaffirmation of a future anything with her.

He watched her rise to her tiptoes then move closer to kiss him sweetly. He held her in an embrace after they parted, with her wrapped hair tucked under his chin.

“Ready to go back to bed, beautiful?” he asked, pulling back to see her. He brought a hand to her velvet face, brushing his thumb along her cheek bone.

“Absolutely.”

He threaded his fingers through hers and turned off the lights, tugging her through the hallway back to his bedroom.

——

Iris woke up the next morning to a weight on her chest and a wet tongue licking at her face.

“Boy what are you–” she opened her eyes to a black, leathery nose an inch away from her and a furiously wagging tail. “Oh my god.”

She brought a hand up to carefully push the excited dog back a few good inches. The effort of self preservation caused the fluff monster to start barking and pounce playfully on Barry’s back, waking him up with a snort.

Iris could hear hurried footsteps approaching underneath the dog’s happy bark.

“Goob, get down!”

Even with her ballerina like demeanor, Nora nearly tumbled through the door in her hurry. Iris quickly drew the comforter a little closer (though she was still wearing Barry’s t-shirt) as the dog jumped off the bed with surprising obedience.

“I’m sorry, guys, we’re still training little Goober here. Aren’t we, Goob?” She leaned down to give him a pat on the head. “Did he wake you?” Nora winced as she asked the question.

“No,” Barry lied. Iris looked over at him, sitting up — his fluffy, cow-licked hair probably giving him away. “We were just about to get up.”

She glanced at the clock which only read 7:50am.

“Oh, good,” she said a little relieved. “I was thinking I could make some of my French toast for breakfast. Maybe pancakes?”

“That sounds great, Mom, but I was actually going to take Iris into town. Show her around a little bit before things get too crazy.” This was the first she was hearing of their plans.

“That’s a wonderful idea, sweetheart. Pick me up some chocolate chips if you go by the store.”

Iris was relived Nora didn’t seem at all phased by their diverging breakfast plans. She’d experienced the “no-one-is-good-enough-for-my-precious-son” mom once before and vowed never again. Life was too short to compete with an over protective mother for a boy’s attention.

“Hey, what do you have there, buddy?”

Iris turned her head to the adorable, little demon dog a few feet away, chewing on something purple. Nora continued her conversation with Barry and started to walk towards Goob. Iris put on her glasses and looked closer at the familiar lace. She swore that in that moment the world froze. In an instant she recognized the underwear she’d been wearing last night. That black and white monster was chewing on her brand new thong that Linda had practically forced her to buy not two days ago, and the worst part was Barry’s mom was about to unknowingly pick it up. She turned to look at him, already dying of embarrassment, and saw that Barry had just come to the same conclusion.

Time restarted and, without hesitation, Barry leapt over the bed towards Goob — which, of course, the puppy took to mean playtime. Barry tried to corner the dog who ran straight though his legs and back out the door, underwear still hanging from his teeth. He ran out after him, yelling, “THOSE AREN’T YOURS!”.

“What was that all about?” Nora asked, turning to look at Iris with a dumbfounded expression across her face.

Iris huffed out what she was hoping was a charming laugh and shrugged at Nora. 

——

Once Barry successfully got the underwear back from Goober (after chasing him around the house twice and eventually having to trade him with his own sock, that he said he was about 90% sure he wasn’t getting back), they were on their way out.

Since she had been asleep as they drove up, this morning was the first time Iris was really seeing his house and, suddenly, it clicked. His enormous apartment back in the city made sense. The Allen’s house was big and pretty; so organized and intentionally relaxed that it could make the cover of Home and Gardens. Just walking from Barry’s room downstairs they passed art covered walls, a grand fireplace, crystal chandeliers…. Out the window she could see a big swimming pool in the backyard accompanied by what she assumed was meant to be a pool house but looked more suitable for a family of four.Iris grew up in a middle class home, definitely nothing to turn your nose up at, but this was…roomier than her house.

As he led her through the kitchen she couldn’t help but notice his brother and father’s med school diplomas, both from the same university, proudly displayed above a photo of Malcolm, Henry, Nora, and Becky at what looked to be Malcolm’s graduation ceremony. The four of them were frozen with identical, Colgate-perfect smiles and Barry was no where to be found.

He opened a door leading to a garage big enough for three cars. Cisco’s truck was there parked next to a car draped in a blue dust cloth.

She pointed at it with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s just some old Mercedes convertible. That thing’s my Dad’s baby,” he said with enough contempt to make her keep a pretty solid _Ferris Bueller_ reference to herself.

Iris began to walk towards it but stopped upon noticing a motorcycle, covered in a layer of dust, parked in the corner between boxes of Christmas decorations. It looked distinctly out of place with more than a few dings, chipped paint, and a slightly rusted tail pipe.

“And who does that belong to?” Iris asked him.

“Me,” he said nonchalantly.

She laughed a little.

“No seriously whose is that?”

He turned away from the car to face her squarely.

“It’s-it’s mine.”

“Mhmm, sure it is Barry,” she said.

When he didn’t move to open the car door she looked between him and the bike.

“You’re serious? _You_ …space nerd, art boy, klutz of the century…rode a motorcycle in high school?” She was shocked. “I don’t believe it.”

He brought a hand to his chest.

“I am hurt, Iris.”

“There’s no way you even know how to turn that thing on.”

Without another word he turned away from the car towards the tool cabinet on the wall and eventually dug out a key. He hit a switch opening the garage door and put it in the ignition. Barry looked up at her smugly, swung his leg over the seat like he’d done it a million times, and confidently flipped switches and turned handles. Sure enough the engine came to life with an obnoxious roar. Black smoke sputtered out of the exhaust pipe but eventually it cleared. He looked at her, quite pleased with himself, and patted the leather saddle behind him twice.

“You must be out of your damn mind if you think my ass is getting on that thing,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Aw, come on! It’ll be fun, plus it’ll be way easier to find parking in town,” he pleaded.

“You don’t even have a helmet!”

He dismounted and turned to the shelves of plastic bins on the wall. Eventually he found one labeled “Barry Bike” and took out a leather jacket and two helmets: one black with a visor, the other an Evil Knievel knockoff with a few noticeable nicks.

She looked skeptically at the protective gear, then at the bike, then at Barry again.

“Iris, I would never let you get hurt,” he said. “I promise to go slow.” He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“Fine! Let’s go before I change my mind.” She snatched the jacket and the black helmet from his hands. She zipped up his leather jacket, though it was too long on her and hurriedly, yet carefully, she tied her hair back into a low bun before securing the helmet on her head.

“Lookin’ hot, West,” he said as she sat back on the bike, clipping his own helmet on.

“Shut up and just drive so this can be over already,” she said, flipping down the visor.

“Oh stop, you’ll love it,” he took up the kick stand and revved the engine. “Hold on.” As if he needed to remind her.

Iris squeezed her eyes shut and clung to (or rather embedded herself in) Barry as they left the long driveway and turned on to the road. The wind picked up around them, which, added to the sound of the bike meant she couldn’t hear anything else. Once things began to feel more steady she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the washed out denim of his jean jacket pressed against the visor. She dared herself to look down at the black asphalt blurring beneath though quickly realized that was a mistake and, instead, looked at the green of the pine trees bordering the two lane road. Once she found more of her confidence she leaned further back from him to see the deep shade of blue unfolding above them. 

Not once in her life did she understand the appeal of motorcycles. They were loud and dangerous, all in all a pretty stupid choice of transportation as far as Iris was concerned. But, despite everything she thought she hated about them, she loved it. Zipping down the long, winding road into town with her arms around him was thrilling — speeding through the trees like a bullet with the wind ripping past them was just so joyful. And yet the best part was riding behind him and being able to watch the slower things while he did all the work. She observed the stray cloud creeping across the sky, the seagulls gliding gently against the wind while throwing their heads back in a shrill cackle. All too soon the ride was over, and Barry parked the bike against a curb along the main street that nearly made up the entirety of “town”. The street was lined with cute storefronts in cottage-like buildings covered in matching gray scalloped shingles. The sidewalks were dotted with expertly manicured flowerbeds, each boasting patriotic pinwheels — perhaps left from the 4th of July though she could just as easily believe the decorations were season long. It was all so tidy.

Iris pulled off the helmet and took her hair down from it’s bun. He got off first and offered a hand to help her down with the broadest smile plastered on his face.

“I told you you’d like it,” he said.

“It was fine,” she said back playfully, slightly annoyed with his cocky tone, but underneath finding it endearing.

“Yeah right, Ms. ‘Go Faster, Go Faster’!”

“Whatever,” she said with a smile.

She watched as he looked over the machine, running his fingers along the gages and chrome fixtures. He looked like such a cool guy with his black sunglasses, plain white t-shirt and jeans, and his jacket now tied around his waist, standing next to the motorcycle. _Barry and his bike_. _Who knew?_

“Where are we going, Bare?” She asked, recalling his attention.

“This place right here,” he said bringing his arm around her shoulder, his fingers lightly toying with the neckline of her t-shirt.

They walked into a diner where they were pretty much the youngest customers by give or take fifty years. An older woman with box-dyed red hair, who smelled of cigarettes and called Barry sweetheart with a raspy voice, led them to a booth by the window. Iris laughed a little to herself at the uncanny familiarity that accompanied all diners, how they were all pretty much the same no matter where you were and how oddly comforting it was. Across the street stood a hardware store right next door to an ice cream shop, spelled “shoppe”. The small town charm was almost unbearable.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the official Barry Allen greatest hits tour. Keep your arms and legs inside the booth at all times and, please, no flash photography,” he said with his hand against his mouth, holding up an imaginary microphone and making static noises in between words. It made her laugh.

“To your right you’ll see Carousel Ice Cream, where an eight year old Barry once vomited because he was so excited about getting cookie dough ice cream after his little league game.” That made him laugh.

“Now that is a good piece of information,” she said, but even to herself it came out sounding a little dazed.

“What?” He asked with the same huge smile she figured ice cream used to give him (and that she knew ice cream occasionally still gave him).

“I don’t know. You just seem really… _happy_ today,” she couldn’t help but mirror his face as she responded. The nervous, cold Barry from last night was nowhere to be found and she couldn’t have been more relieved.

“Really?” He kind of giggled and it was just too adorable. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just…really, really happy you’re here with me.”

He nudged her foot with his and suddenly he seemed too far away. Only this man sitting across from her could finally make her understand why two people would ever want to sit on the same side of the booth. She shook it off, since it was only 9:00 in the morning (an unreasonable time to just be out being human but especially unreasonable for PDA).

“Tell me about this place,” she said instead.

“Oh, okay. This is the Clam Shack Diner. It’s belonged to the same family since it opened. John Clarke, the current owner’s grandfather, built it with his wife Elizabeth after he came home from the war and married her in ‘45. And, fun fact, this was actually the first place to start selling burritos in the area in the 1970s, after John’s son, Jack, tried them in San Francisco,” he excitedly rattled off.

“My mom always took us here after baseball when we were little, sometimes for Sunday pancakes if we were extra good. It’s right down the street from where Cisco and I went to high school, so we’d come get milkshakes and do homework after jazz band practice too. I played trumpet, Cisco played percussion, and both of us were terrible,” he finished before Iris could ask.

He started to laugh to himself.

“There was this one time we came here after our midterms and we were are all so completely burnt out that Cisco couldn’t remember how to say milkshake so instead he asked the waiter for ‘frothy cow juice’. It made Becky laugh so hard soda came out of her nose,” he laughed a little but then got quiet at the mention of her name.

Iris felt awkward. She loved seeing Barry’s childhood and hearing all of the stories, but it came with the knowledge that so much of him was connected to her. Iris tried not to feel territorial, she knew it was completely irrational. But still, she couldn’t fight the little bit of jealousy brewing in her stomach.

“Anyways,” he continued after clearing his throat, “the Clam Shack diner pretty much made the man you see before you today.”

“Well, thank god for that."

Their waitress (whose name tag read Marge which was just too on the nose) came back to take their order — pancakes for Barry, bacon and eggs for Iris, and big cups of coffee for them both.

After Marge left she spoke again.

“Where else is this tour taking us?”

He drummed his fingers on his chin and squinted one of his eyes in thought.

“I’m not sure I want to tell you.”

“Oh, come on!”

“No, I like this,” he wagged his eyebrows. “More fun for me.”

“You’re the worst,” she said, taking his sunglasses that rested on the table to try on. “I can already tell there’s no point in arguing with you.”

“Nope. My mind’s made up.”

He pulled out his phone to take a photo.

“Do something interesting,” he instructed.

“Like what?” She said back to him, perching the glasses on the top of her head.

“Like this,” he answered, touching the tip of his tongue to his nose and in the process making a ridiculous face. She started to laugh hard at his unexpected display of talent and heard him snap the picture.

“This one’s definitely a keeper,” he said looking over it with a small smile before flipping the phone to rest facedown on the table.

Thinking of ways to fill time before breakfast, Iris surveyed the room for some inspiration.

“Okay, you see that group of guys at the counter over there,” she pointed to a group of men in their eighties all joking around with each other over black coffees and eggs. “What’s their story?”

Barry turned to examine them and easily caught on to her game. 

“Oh nice! Okay… so…these five… ran the largest drug ring in the Northeastern United States. Right here, from this very diner. And, legend has it, when the FBI came to arrest them they ditched their stash into the pancake batter and escaped. But! They still come here every year, on this day, uh,” he checked the date on his phone, “August 9th, to commemorate their victory and discuss finances.”

“Uh-huh,” Iris said.

“You wouldn’t know it but that right there is a gang of ruthless criminal masterminds.”

“Hey Stan, you got any more laxatives?!” one of them yelled.

“Any more what?!” Stan yelled back.

Barry and Iris laughed as the exchange went on another few minutes.

“Alright, your turn. What’s our friend Marge’s story?” He said, nodding his head towards her.

“Oh you don’t know?”

He shook his head.

“That is _the_ Marjorie P. Halloway, the most accomplished model in Paris back in her day,” Iris said with confidence.

“You’re right! Man, I should’ve recognized her.”

They looked at her smearing cream cheese on a bagel and loudly clearing the phlegm out of her throat before announcing she was going on a smoke break.

“Now that right there is a _woman_ ,” he told her.

She loved how he just went with it. With him there was no pressure to be anything but herself. She’d never felt more in sync with someone. It was effortless.

Iris scanned the room again and this time her eyes landed on an older couple finishing up their breakfast.

“And these two?” She asked him, already chuckling at whatever he might come up with.

The woman got up first and reminded her husband to grab his hat.

“If it weren’t for you I would’ve lost my own head years ago, my dear,” Iris heard the man tell his wife. They seemed sweet. She watched them as they walked towards the register in the front of the diner with her arm linked through his.

Barry smiled at the sight before saying in a far too honest voice, “easy. That’s us in fifty years.”

Iris wasn’t expecting that at all. She didn’t know what to say. Her stomach was overcome with a queasy feeling and she noticed how much the tag inside her t-shirt was itching her neck. His eyes moved from the couple to her. All Iris could see was herself, panicking, in their reflection.

He reached over to grab her hand but she pulled away, standing up from the table in a quick movement.

“I’m gonna go wash my hands before the food comes,” she said with a tight, close-lipped smile on her face.

“Okay, but if you’re not back before the food I’m stealing a piece of your bacon.”

“Right,” she huffed a laugh and walked to the back of the diner, past the old couple paying their bill.


	13. Chapter 13

The weekend from hell was turning out to not be so bad. In a lot of ways being back in his hometown was like walking through a movie set of his life — in a sense it all felt a little artificial to him. Every street he dragged Iris down sparked another long forgotten memory that he couldn’t totally be sure even happened. Things got too surreal when he saw none other than his high school bully, Tony, working at the main street grocery store. Barry spotted him in a green apron overtop a muscle shirt and cargo shorts, with a badge that read “How may I help you today?” and the same stupid haircut he had ten years ago.

Apparently still the same meathead asshole, Barry heard Tony throw a “hey, baby” Iris’ way as she wandered the aisles. She gave him a once over and kept on, ignoring his presence.

Much to his frustration Tony was working the only register in the store, so sneaking out unnoticed would be impossible.

“Is that you Allen?” Tony asked as he rang up his mom’s chocolate chips.

“Hey Tony,” he responded glumly.

“Last time I saw you was…” he paused, straining the two braincells he had left to remember. “Graduation. Remember when you fell walking across the stage and face planted right into the principal’s boobs?” He asked laughing and somehow still holding on to some feeling of superiority.

“I remember you tripping me.”

“Ah man, classic,” he said, wiping a tear from laughing out of his eye. It killed him that Tony still made him feel small all these years later.

And then, because she was the gift that would never stop giving, Iris came up behind him to nuzzle his neck and give him a tongue-y kiss. She detached herself from him and put a box of condoms on the conveyor belt.

“Almost forgot these, honey,” she said wrapping her arms around his bicep.

He wasn’t sure whose eyes were wider: his or Tony’s.

“Later, baby,” Iris said to him as he handed over their bag, his jaw still firmly secured to the floor. His eyes shifted between her and Barry. He had the distinct look of someone whose brain just exploded, though Barry was positive he didn’t look much different.

“See you around, Tony,” he said with his face erupting in a smile before running out to catch up with her.

After many inconclusive, late night debates with Cisco on the topic, in that moment Barry finally came to the ultimate conclusion that he would risk the integrity of the space-time continuum to travel back in time to give his ninth-grade self a play-by-play of exactly what just happened. 

He went to grab her hand and explain exactly how much that moment meant to both him and his fourteen-year-old self, but she bent down to retie her shoelace. Instead, he moved the grocery bag from one hand to the other and checked the time on his phone. It was already a little past noon. He hadn’t realized how long they’d been walking around after breakfast. It was like every corner he turned he suddenly thought of a new place he wanted to show her, like the hobby shop he and Cisco went to every weekend or the bowling alley where he’d nearly bowled a perfect game (she let him know that she’d _actually_ bowled a perfect game, which he without a doubt believed but still denied to her face).

He led her back to the motorcycle and put the chocolate chips in the leather saddle bag. He hopped they wouldn’t melt in there.

“I do have one last place I want to show you,” he said. He watched her tuck a dark strand of hair behind her ear in that all too endearing way. She was dressed in a plain t-shirt and denim shorts with a pair of beat up white sneakers. Standing there next to his old bike she looked like a dream. “If you’re up for it.”

She shielded her eyes from the sun.

“Sure,” she said.

He drove them out of town, down the familiar road with the huge pothole half a mile down that he didn’t always remember was there — he still had a funny looking scar running down the length of his shin to prove it — though this time he saw it coming and swerved around. Finally they made it to the abandoned tennis court that looked more like the opening scene of _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ with overgrown trees and grass reaching up to his thighs. He cut the engine and helped Iris down. It was cute how her feet couldn’t really reach the ground, but he knew if he told her that he’d get punched in the arm, so he kept it to himself.

“It’s just up here on the left,” he told her as they walked down the dirt path shrouded in a leafy green tunnel.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked but didn’t sound skeptical of him, only curious.

“Just a little bit further.”

As he said it the tunnel gave way to the pocket on the water sheltered by the woods. There was a two foot drop down to a bank, where a tall tree with broad branches reached out over the stream.

“Ta da,” he said a little lamely. He watched her take a few exploratory steps, carefully navigating over the rocks and the moss covered roots growing in a tangled heap, towards the fraying rope swing hanging from the tree. Wildflowers with soft petals grew in clusters in whatever pieces of grass they managed to find.

“What is this place?”

He took a few steps to meet her but instead sat on the tall boulder with the wide, flat top resting against the other side of the trunk. It still made the perfect chair.

“Your secret lair?” she asked jokingly.

The constant rush of the water he knew would be freezing even this late in the summer burbled over stones and cascaded into white caps as it diverted at the large rocks sticking out of the water at 45º angles. The sunlight fell in warm spotlights through the canopy which offered shady relief from the thick afternoon heat.

“Something like that,” he said leaning back against the rough bark. He could hear her coming around the tree towards him, stopping in front of him. He scooted over to make space and gave her a hand up. They sat not in silence, as an indeterminable stretch of time passed, but in peaceful harmony with the sounds of his childhood. The chirps of songbirds in the branches and frogs sitting on logs or in the tall grass intermixed with the unassuming orchestration that could easily be missed if not intentionally listened to. Everything flowed together; sitting there they only served to witness it all unfold — no real part of the ecosystem, simply visitors coming to observe what would happen anyways, regardless of their presence.

“I used to come here when I needed a break,” he spoke and she turned her head to face him. “If school, or my family, or…” he cut off not wanting to bring Becky up again. She looked away from him and he knew she could tell what he was thinking. “…or Cisco,” he said instead to cut the tension, “was bothering me and I wanted a moment I’d run away to this place. Just sit here and think.”

She pulled a small clip from her pocket and pinned a section of hair back that kept falling in her face.

The shimmer on the water’s surface was the most erratic part of the whole scene, yet that too followed it’s own encumbered pattern. Below the ripples, rocks covered in an orange-brown slime that were settled on the bottom of the stream shone like precious gold coins. On the other side of the creek, the forrest continued to unfold before them, seemingly with no end. He’d always sit there, where they were sitting now, beneath his tree (as much as he might even call it his) and wonder what it all must’ve looked like a thousand years ago. Was his stream there? Surely it was before his tree. And which might’ve come first: the boulder or the tree?

“And what are you thinking about now?” She asked him.

He turned to look at her, sitting so close to him, with her hair framing her familiar face.

“How pretty you are.”

She laughed dismissively and turned away from him to look back at the water.

He thought for a second.

“Hey maybe it’s still here,” he said to himself as the memory suddenly came back to him.

Without warning, he stood up to reach the crook where the main trunk split off into two big branches, perfect for climbing.

“It is!”

“What is?” She asked as he sat again, settling down next to her.

He held the battered, aluminum lunch box in his lap. _Property of Barry H. Allen_ was scrawled out in sharpie in his crooked, ten-year-old handwriting.

“Treasure,” he answered. He struggled a bit with the rusty clasps but finally managed to pop them off. It had to have at least been fifteen years since he’d last opened the thing.

One by one he pulled out each artifact: the only Rubik’s cube he ever managed to solve that he never tried to redo, a Twinkie still in its packaging, a polaroid of him and Cisco, three dollars in loose change, Malcolm’s CD player that he borrowed without asking and broke, a pencil, a big pink eraser, a sharpener, and a little notebook. It was a time capsule from the early 2000s, a perfect snapshot of himself as a kid.

“All I ever wanted to do was be an artist,” he said as she flipped through the notebook, looking over his early work. She looked up at him, seeming not entirely surprised. There was just something about her that made him want to tell her everything. “That was always my one big dream: go to art school and leave all of this behind.” He looked at the polaroid in his hands fondly. “Well, most of it,” he amended.

“What happened?” she asked him so quietly he almost didn’t hear it.

He hopped down from the rock and picked up a long stick. He began to trace some unknown shapes into the wet sandy dirt at the water’s edge. She brought up her legs to sit criss-cross, filling the space he vacated.

“‘Well son, that’s not a respectable field for a man. You’d never be able to support yourself, let alone a family of your own’,” he quoted his father as he kept dragging the stick. “He said no so I didn’t.”

He could feel her staring at him. He wondered if she judged him for it, if she thought he was weak.All these years later he still felt the insurmountable weight of his father’s disappointment no matter how much he tried to convince himself he didn’t.

He heard her jump down and walk towards him. The sound of her sneakers alternated between rubber scraping against dry rocks and the soft pad against wet sand. She came to a stop at his side just as he finished. It was rough but it was clearly her.

“I couldn’t get your eyes right,” he said, still looking at the likeness of her in the muck.

He felt her hand grip his and her head lean into his shoulder.

“Dads suck,” she said plainly. It may have been an oversimplification but damn it if it didn’t sum up his entire life. He felt her tug a little so he turned to look at her. They were standing in a beam of sunlight that turned her eyes from chocolate to pools of multi-toned amber ringed in black. Even if he spent the next century trying to get her eyes right he knew he would never do them justice.

They stayed there at the creek for a while, talking about everything and nothing in the same breath. She told him she was editor-in-chief of the school paper (no surprise there) and a cheerleader for two years until she quit in protest of the coach refusing to let a boy join the squad (again, no surprise). She told him about how she didn’t always want to be a journalist — how she wanted to be a ballerina, a boxer, an astronaut, and then, for a while, how she even wanted to be a cop like her dad. He told her about the month that he and Cisco had a punk rock garage band called The Space Cadets and how Tony made his life a living hell from the time he was ten to the time he was seventeen.

“You mean that guy from the store earlier?” She asked.

He nodded his head calmly.

“Well if I had known that I’d’ve done a lot more. What a piece of shit,” her words were biting with residual anger.

“I wish I had you around back then,” he told her with a half-smile.

She leaned over and gently combed his hair back from his forehead. He was definitely due for a haircut and he was looking a bit shaggier than he liked.

“I would’ve kicked his ass if I saw him messing with you,” she told him as she looked into his eyes. 

He wrapped his arms around her and brought his scrappy, 5’4” heart closer. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and looked out at the rushing water. He was glad that she was here with him, on his rock, in the one place that always felt totally and completely his.

“My hero,” he said dreamily, overflowing with love. 

——

A few hours later than they originally intended, they left Barry’s secret hideout and went back to the house. It was like being back out on his fire escape, though no matter how nice or how easy it was to just sit and talk with him, she still couldn’t totally shake the uneasiness she felt lingering from the diner.

“Iris,” she could just barely hear him calling. “Iris?”

“Huh? Yeah, what’s up,” she asked.

“I asked if you’re coming,” he said.

She realized she was still on the motorcycle while he was already by the door, waiting for her to follow. She hopped down and walked up to him.

“Yep. Aren’t those melted by now?” she asked lightly, hoping to keep the conversation moving.

He looked her over with a slightly concerned look on his face, but if he was he didn’t say anything.

“I’ll just stuff them in the freezer and she won’t even notice,” he said cooly as they walked into the kitchen.

“Who won’t notice what?” Nora asked. Both and she and Barry jumped a little at her voice.

She was standing at the kitchen island tying an apron around her waist. A set of measuring cups and ingredients were laid out like sterile surgeon’s instruments in front of her.

“Whatcha’ making, mom?” Barry asked in a saccharine voice as he walked over to kiss her on the cheek.

“Nice try, sweetheart,” she said leaning into it. “Do you have my chocolate chips?”

He smiled guiltily as he handed over the bag. Iris had a brief moment of panic when she remembered the condoms, but Barry caught her eye and patted the inside pocket of his jean jacket, signaling he had enough forethought to take them out and averting yet another potential case of death by embarrassment. Nora squished the bag of chocolate chips in her hands like a lump of wet clay.

“Well, I guess the kids will be getting sugar cookies. And I expect _you_ to come down to the hospital with me tomorrow to explain to those little angels why they aren’t getting chocolate chip like I promised,” Nora said with a maternal finger wag, though there was no frustration in her voice.

“Okay, mom,” he said. He seemed happy to be back in the starring roll of Nora Allen’s loving son, like maybe he missed this part of home a little more than he led on. It was a little bittersweet for her to watch, wishing she could at least text her own mom and tell her about it. Determined not to get too far lost down that road she decided texting Wally would just have to do. Barry was still chatting with Nora as his own phone began to ring.

“Oh it’s Gar,” he said looking at the screen. “I should probably take this.”

“Go. Iris and I will be just fine,” Nora said as she turned away from them to wash her hands.

Barry looked over at her while his phone rang on. She mouthed, _it’s okay._ He mouthed back, _one second_ , with an apologetic expression before picking it up and walking out to the backyard. She stood a bit awkwardly for a second; no matter how kind and welcoming Nora had been it was still strange to have a moment alone with his mother.

“So these cookies are for kids in the hospital?” she asked hoping to strike up pleasant enough conversation.

“For Henry’s patients. I try to make a batch once a week,” Nora answered with a smile as she dried her hands on a rag. With her pale pink apron covered in hearts she looked like the sweetest woman in the world. Like she owned her own bakery in this tiny, perfect, little sunshine town where she baked the most perfect cupcakes and donated every cent she earned to puppies and children’s hospitals and saving the rainforest.

“Could I give you a hand?” Iris asked.

“Oh that’d be wonderful, sweetheart.”

Iris walked over to wash her hands as Nora began measuring out the ingredients.She couldn’t remember the last time she actually made something. Cooking, she reluctantly admitted, she couldn’t do. But baking…baking was her shit. Wally’s bake-sales, friend’s birthdays, procrastinating during finals back in college, whenever she had an excuse she made cookies, cakes, rice krispy treats…you name it. Her specialty, that she only made for the rarest of occasions, were her chocolate chip fudge brownies filled with salted caramel. Not to brag, but one of Wally’s teachers once called them “the closest thing on earth to heaven”. But between work and the fact that her and Linda’s oven wasn’t _technically_ functional (to be honest they’d started to use it to store the extra blankets), it’d been a minute since she last wielded a spatula.

Nora asked Iris to take over as she went into the cupboards to find cookie cutters, icing, and sprinkles. It felt nice to engage in such a mindless task as mixing cookie dough. Her hands continued to work on autopilot as she looked around the room. She was standing at the massive kitchen island. The countertop was made of bright, white marble that reflected all of the light pouring in from the sliding doors leading to the backyard. She could see Barry, outside, pacing as he spoke on the phone. He seemed a little on edge and for his sake she hopped nothing out of the ordinary was happening at the bar. She lingered on him for a moment as he bent down to pet Goober — apparently they’d made amends since the morning. She continued looking around, her eyes finally landing on a framed picture hanging on one of the walls of the two boys playing with a brown dog outside by the pool.

“That’s a great picture,” Iris said to Nora as she finally came back from the cabinets with all of her supplies.  
Nora put the plastic baggies on the counter and looked up at it.

“That son of mine is quite the artist,” she said as she picked out an assortment of summery shapes from the impressive collection of cookie cutters.

“Wait, Barry made that?” She asked pointing.

She abandoned the mixing bowl to look more closely. At first glance she thought it was a photograph, but now she could see his careful brushstrokes and the texture of the paint. Iris shouldn’t have been as shocked as she was, but this was so different from his drawings she’d already seen. For one, it was a huge, hyperrealistic painting —it must’ve taken him months to finish. That kind of commitment was staggering. Every inch of it was perfect, except for him. The longer she looked at it the weirder he seemed; she couldn’t quite put her finger on it but the something was off in the way he depicted himself. It just wasn’t quite right.

“Yeah, when he was in high school,” Nora said casually, yet clearly proud of him.

“High school?” Iris asked with disbelief, turning over her shoulder to look at her.

“Mhmm. Ever since he was a little boy, he was always doodling, sometimes on the wall even,” she said fondly as she took over mixing. “Did he ever tell you he was a visual arts minor? Even had his work featured in a couple shows at school.”

“Um, no. No, he never mentioned that.”

Iris knew he said he wanted to be an artist but she didn’t realize how far he’d actually gone. By all accounts it seemed to her he was all set to follow his plans and pursue this big dream; he certainly had the talent and the resources for it. _So what happened?_ she wondered. _Why didn’t he?_

“You know,” Nora continued, “you’re the first girl he’s ever introduced to me. Things must be getting pretty serious between you two.”

“Oh I don’t kn–”

“You and Barry should come spend the holidays here with us! I’m sure he’s told you all about my Christmas parties and lord knows we have the space.” Her face was filled with excitement and warmth as she looked up from mixing at Iris. The dough was finally done. Nora covered the bowl and put it in the freezer to chill before rolling it out to cut into suns and beachballs.

In that moment she could hear Nora planning their wedding and naming their kids. What next? A double plot in the Allen family cemetery, stuffed into one coffin? She didn’t even think she wanted to be buried, she wanted to be cremated or set adrift in a blazing boat like she saw in that one viking documentary she watched that time with Linda. She glanced out the window at Barry who looked up to offer another apologetic smile. All she agreed to was being a wedding date, not signing her life away. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room and she became aware of how it was just a little too hot.

“Oh, I know I’m getting ahead of myself,” Nora continued as the freezer door slammed shut. “You probably have your own family traditions. It’s just so nice to see him again especially now that he’s in love.”

_With who_ , she wanted to ask. Instead, she smiled and nodded politely before excusing herself to go check-in with work.

——

“Okay, Gar, now that you’re on the ladder you should see the extra napkins on the third shelf next to the toilet paper. You got it? Yeah-yep, it’s no problem. I’ll see you in a couple days. Oh hey, make sure they’re keeping up with the schedule for cleaning the bathrooms.”

He heard the fence gate close and the metallic clatter of golf clubs clinking together. He hoped his father would maintain the unspoken agreement to ignore each other for the remainder of the weekend but then again he’d never been quite that lucky. His dad removed his hat, tossing it down on top of the clubs, and started to walk over to him.

“I have to go Gar,” Barry said into the phone without waiting for a response.

“You got a second, Slugger?”

“I actually need to go send an email, so…”

“Now, wait a second, I’m trying to apologize here.”

Barry was stunned. He knew his father to be a lot of things: stubborn, tough, critical…but sorry was new.

“Your mother subtly pointed out that I may have been a little…rude to you and Iris, and she _suggested_ I have a talk with you about it.”

That sounded more like his father.

“Don’t strain yourself, Dad, consider me apologized to,” he said as he began to continue in his path to the house.

“Dammit, Barry! Why’d you come back? You’ve made it abundantly clear that your own family’s not good enough for you.”

“You’re right, maybe I should’ve stayed away considering you and I can’t even be in the same room two minutes without ripping each other’s heads off.”

“What’s this all about? Huh!? We put you through school, didn’t we? We fed you, we put clothes on your back! Hell, we even paid for that apartment in the city!”

“The only reason you did that was to control me and you know it. You didn’t want me to go to art school so you paid for college; you didn’t want me to do the one thing that I was good at, the _one thing_ that really made me happy, so you bought me an apartment!”

He could still remember it, his dad offered to take him out for dinner while he was in the city for a medical conference. He was twenty-four and had already been bartending for a couple years. The tables were covered in crisp white linen, but speckled with crumbs and a red wine stain from the waiter missing a bit as he poured his father’s glass. He was going to tell his father that he was going to quit working at Harry’s and work full time on putting together his first solo show. Since his father told him he’d be visiting, he spent the week prior preparing to share his news.

When he finally told his father he was quiet for a while. Then he took a sip of his drink, then he offered his “compromise”. They’d buy an apartment, somewhere close to where he worked, and nicer than the place he lived with Cisco and Sydney ( _“it’s Cindy, dad”_ ). Technically his parents would own it but for all intents and purposes it would be his, free of charge, on the condition that he wouldn’t quit the bar and would go to the interviews his dad set up for him as a pharmaceutical rep or analyzing blood work in the lab ( _“I didn’t pay for that biology degree for nothing”_ ). He tried to hold his ground, he tried to stand up for himself and tell his dad that he was sure of what he wanted but the words died on his tongue.

_“If you do this, Slugger, I can’t support you. You’ll be on your own and I won’t be able to look out for you anymore. Best case scenario you sell a few paintings for a couple hundred bucks, maybe, and then what? Your mother and I just want the best for you, and this way you can have a secure future. You can start building a real life for yourself. It doesn’t matter how good you are, odds are you won’t make it. But I can still help you, Slugger. Let me help you.”_

With his father dangling his future in front of him he caved. A month later Cisco and City were engaged. He called Henry and moved into that fancy new apartment that, for all intents and purposes, was his, and was alternating between the same two neckties for interviews that he never followed up with.

“You made it clear that you want nothing to do with medicine, that’s fine. And when I found out you own that bar, it may not have been my first choice for you — that you could achieve a little bit more—but I thought _maybe_ you’d finally decided to grow up, take more responsibility for yourself with a _real_ career,” he said, exasperated. “Your mother and I just want what’s best for you. Chasing fantasies is best left to little boys, son.”

“I’ve gotta go get dressed. See you at the wedding, dad,” he said as he walked past his father back into the house.

Thankfully, his mom wasn’t in the kitchen waiting to interrogate him. Instead he went back up to his bedroom and shut the door. He looked down on himself sitting there, feeling like he’d gone back to being sixteen: getting yelled at by his dad then retreating to his room. He kind of hated himself for it. He sat on the edge of the bed and rested his head in his hands. He stole a quick glance at the clock and saw that it was 4:45—they had to be at the venue at 6. He dropped his head back to his hands willing away the frustration, the fear, and the exhaustion.

“Oh no, is there something wrong at the bar?”

He looked up from his misery to see Iris shutting the door, wrapped in a towel. _She must’ve just gotten out of the shower_.

He watched her walk closer towards him, stopping right in front of where he sat beside her suitcase, and bend over to rummage through it in search of something.

Wordlessly, he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her towel covered stomach. He took a deep breath of her.She smelled like the lemon soap that was in the shower.

He thought he felt her tense for a second or two, but then he felt her fingers scratching the back of his head.

“I’m sure whatever it is they’ll be able to handle it until you get back.” Her voice, though a little distracted, was still genuine and full of comfort.

Sooner than he was ready for, she pulled away to continue looking through her bag. He took that as his cue to get ready, too. He retrieved the steamed suit hanging from his closet door while she went back to the bathroom.


	14. Chapter 14

She couldn’t really remember the car ride over, or walking into the chapel with Barry. She knew they were sitting in a pew somewhere in the middle, not close to anyone she recognized from the night before, and she remembered the processional, played by string instruments, starting up. But then she couldn’t exactly remember watching the flower girls sprinkling petals, or the bridesmaids and groomsmen coming down two by two, or the bride walking down the aisle. She wasn’t even focused on Barry sitting next to her, only that he was bouncing his leg and it was getting on her nerves. Why couldn’t he just be still?

“Do you, Malcolm, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

She imagined herself standing in a chapel, in front of a sea of Aunt Evelyns and fraternity brothers, in a pouffy, white dress that would drown her in tulle, across from Barry in a stuffy tuxedo.

_“And do you, Iris, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”_

Iris felt like she was going to throw up.

“I now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin.

——

The chapel was only five minutes down the road from the old Willhem estate where the reception was being held. It was a beautiful property, built in the 1800s by an eccentric billionaire who spent nearly thirty years working on it after being left at the altar by his would be bride. Ironically, it was one of the most sought after wedding venues in the area, due to its Tuscan Renaissance influences, elaborate rose gardens, and dramatic positioning on the cliffside overlooking the coast. Done up in elegant lanterns matching their color scheme, with everything effortlessly in place, and the sun just beginning to dip below the horizon it should’ve created an atmosphere of romance and ease.

It was a fairly quick ceremony, in and out in forty minutes maximum. He avoided any eye contact with his dad and steered Iris towards a pew a few rows back among people he didn’t really know and therefore were less likely to talk to him or give him sympathetic looks. Watching Becky walk down the aisle in her wedding dress, he had a brief window into a parallel universe — one where he was standing at the altar, tears in his eyes, as he watched her come towards him. He could see them exchanging their rings with their vows and stuffing cake into each other’s mouths. Buying their first house together out in the suburbs, having two kids and a minivan and then a dog. He could see PTA meetings and birthday parties and family vacations. He could see the rest of his life that he had once mapped out and held for certain; everything to plan, everything in place. He was jolted back to reality as the priest asked everyone to take their seats once she made it to Malcolm, the two of them exchanging misty eyed smiles.

And then there was Iris. She looked stunning as ever in that dress that perfectly matched the exterior of the place — a vision in dark green — but she hardly looked at peace during the ceremony. She seemed a little jumpy and barely looked at him the entire time. He knew she must’ve felt at least awkward, especially after the way he acted at the rehearsal dinner the night before. It made him sick with guilt but each time he tried to comfort her she stiffened, making him feel all the much worse. In the car ride over he asked if she was okay and got an “of course, everything’s fine” that he knew her well enough to know was said in her office voice: automatic and overly polite.

They didn’t say much to each other between the chapel and the reception. His mother found him as soon as they walked in to collect him for a couple family photos in the garden and around the estate while the sun was still out. Iris didn’t seem to mind all that much that he had to leave her. She gave her consent, hurriedly saying she would go find their seats before he could even suggest she get in some of them with him. He watched her walk off with a slight sinking feeling, racking his brain for what he might say to her to make her feel better.

They all stood on the grand palace-like steps for photos: his brother, his mother, and his father grouped together. His mother had to excuse herself as more tears came to her eyes, clearly overwhelmed with emotion. With her gone, the boys stayed put for one more stiff photo before disbanding since no one was there to tell them otherwise.

“Hey, Barry wait up,” he heard Malcolm call after him before he could escape. Begrudgingly, he turned to his brother, in his sharp tuxedo with a bluebell pinned to the lapel; it was their mother’s favorite flower and Barry’s first tattoo at seventeen after he’d forged her signature, ironically enough. The silver of his newly placed wedding band gleamed on his ring finger.

“I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you coming out for this.”

“Oh, yeah, of course–”

“No, no. I mean it bro. I know how things are between you and dad, not to mention with us…”

Malcolm trailed off but Barry didn’t interject or correct. It was the first time he’d ever come close to acknowledging the tension between them. He didn’t even know what he could’ve said, so they just listened to the chatter of the room as he counted the seconds until he could go.

“Hey, remember when we were kids and dad would drive us in the Jeep out to grandpa’s house to go fishing?” Malcolm said staring off in to the distance as if he could see the memory. He waited a beat, maybe for Barry’s confirmation. When he stayed quietly confused at the sudden nostalgia, Malcolm pushed on. “Every single one of us hated it, even grandpa, but he made us go every summer while he was still alive. And then there was that one time when you were still little, we got there and grandpa said–”

“God dammit I fucking hate fishing, Henry!” They said it together.

“I don’t think I’d ever heard him swear before that,” Barry laughed at the memory; he hadn’t thought about it in years. He had no idea why it was so funny, but in that moment it felt so nice to laugh with his brother until tears formed in the corner of his eyes and they came down with breathy laughs that felt more like coughs. It quieted again but it wasn’t as uncomfortable.

“I know that I was never the best brother to you. I know that and I wish I could go back and do things differently between us. I want us to be a part of each other’s lives, maybe someday friends, even. And when the time comes I want you to be a part of my kids’ lives,” Malcolm said firmly. “I mean: I got married today. Married!” He said with disbelief as he twisted the wedding band. “I miss you — we all do. And you coming out here, even if we don’t exactly have your blessing…it’s everything to me, Barry. I need you to know that.”

He had never seen his brother in this light. He had always been so preoccupied with the image of him from their childhood that he never stopped to consider who he might’ve become. It’s not to say that there was an apology or admission of guilt, but rather that there was more to consider.

He took another second.

“I think they need you for more pictures,” Barry said.

Malcolm looked over his shoulder to the photographer and his groomsmen calling him, then back at Barry with a slightly disappointed expression.

“Yeah,” he said waiting expectantly, then turning to walk back.

“Maybe— we could try doing something next month,” Barry said abruptly. “We could go fishing.”

Malcolm cracked a smile.

“Okay, yeah. That’d be…nice.”

He nodded at Barry before jumping on to his best man’s back for a photo.

“Where’d the bride get off to,” he heard the photographer asking as he wandered off, before he could be nabbed again, deciding to take the time to look for the bathroom.

——

Iris was relieved to have a moment to herself with Barry getting pulled away by Nora. All she needed was two seconds without him to collect herself and clear her head. She walked over to the tent covered courtyard where a mass of tables were scattered around a dance floor and a stage with a wedding band playing “Twist and Shout”. She looked for a seating chart but found there was none, everyone was welcome to sit wherever they wanted — she didn’t know if it was genius or insane. She found an empty table over towards the back of the tent: away from any close family members and near key exit points in case she felt the need to evacuate.

Sitting, watching people chat amongst their table mates, take selfies, and dance a little to the music, she wished she were anywhere else.

“Hi, would you mind if my daughter sat with you for a second while I go get her a plate of food?” A woman, wielding the hand of a smallish child, asked. She hadn’t seen them approaching her at all. The mother looked close in age to Iris, she and her daughter shared the same raven colored hair, though the girl’s flowed out like a mane while the mother’s was pinned up in a bun. She was wearing the same blue color as the rest of the bridesmaids and the daughter had a matching blue sash wrapped around her white dress — she was one of the flower girls. Iris realized the frazzled mother was still waiting expectantly for her answer.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks so much, I’ll just be a second. Sit right here with this nice lady, sweetheart,” she said as she rushed off to the buffet line.

The girl hoisted herself up into the chair and stared at her little hands folded in her lap. She was adorable.

“I’m Iris,” she said, trying her best to not come off as stiff or scary. People, namely Wally and Linda, told her on more than one occasion that she wasn’t the _best_ with kids. She was trying to work on it. “What’s your name?”

“Maddie,” the girl said.

“How old are you, Maddie?”

“I am five- _and-a-half_ years-old,” the girl answered back full of confidence. It was endearing and it made Iris laugh a bit.

“Oh my goodness, that’s so big. You must be old enough to have a driver’s license. Hey, do you think you could give me a ride back home after this party ends?”

The little girl started laughing ridiculously.

“Nooo,” she said through her laughter. “I’m not _that_ big.”

“My mistake,” Iris said back, “you’re just so mature.”

“How old are _you_?”

“I am 28 _and three-quarters_.”

“Wow,” Maddie said with amazement. “You’re a _real_ grown up.”

“Unfortunately,” Iris said, though the girl didn’t acknowledge it.

“I wish I was a real grown up too. Then I could really drive a car and have chicken nuggets for dinner every night and live in my own house with purple walls. Hey wait a second, if you’re grown up then where’s your husband and your baby?” She asked, bringing her hands to her hips. 

“Uhhh,” Iris didn’t even begin to know what to do next.

“Maddie, sweetie, I’m back,” the girl’s mother said as she returned to the table with the plate of kid-foods. Maddie instantly dropped any fascination she once had with Iris. “Thanks for sitting with her.”

“What? Oh, oh yeah. Of course.”

“Honey, come sit over here,” she said, putting down the plate in front of her, and taking the seat in between her and Iris. She lovingly stroked Maddie’s hair as the girl started to pick at her food.

“She didn’t ask you too many personal questions I hope. We’re trying to work on that, aren’t we Mads?”

“Mommy says that I ask in-in-intursive questions,” she said before zeroing back in on her mac and cheese with laser focus.

“You know, my mom used to say the same thing about me. I guess journalism was kind of the inevitable career path,” Iris said off hand.

“You’re kidding! I’m a photographer! Or at least I was. I used to work for Central City Picture News, wrote a couple pieces while I was there, too,” she said.

“No way! When did you leave?”

“Ah, well I decided to take a step back after this little one decided she was ready to be here,” she said lovingly running a hand through Maddie’s hair while she feasted. “God, there’s nothing better than seeing your name attached to something you created. I always got such a rush seeing the finished product, knowing how much time and effort was put in to getting that one perfect shot.” She looked a little dazed as she reminisced about her professional life. “Not to knock being a stay-at-home mom, because that rocks too, but there’s nothing else in the world like that feeling.”

“Maybe you’ll get back to it soon, when you have more time,” Iris offered hopefully. The thought of sidelining her entire livelihood to stay home and raise her kid was noble, sure, but it crushed her all the same. If she had a job at a place like Picture News she knew that she’d never give it up for anything — not unless Lois Lane herself suddenly called asking for a partner.

“I’m not holding my breath,” she said. “I always told myself I’d never be one of those women. I’d never get married before thirty, I’d never have kids until I felt secure in my career, and I’d _definitely_ never become a stay-at home mom.”

“So what changed?” Iris asked.

“I don’t know. Life just kind of happened. You meet someone so incredible you don’t know what you ever did without them and whether you like it or not they change everything. Right, Mads?”

To hear a woman talk about that same feeling she knew so well and say she could just give it up — just like that? It was terrifying. It made her wonder how many steps away from making that same decision she was.

“So what publication are you at?”

“Well…”

——

The bathroom downstairs was busy so he decided to try going up a floor. He roamed around the halls and accidentally walked in on his second cousin once removed and the neighbor’s daughter going at it in one of the restrooms. He walked into another room and, cautiously, opened the door afraid of what he might see next. To his relief it was only an empty library with a balcony overlooking the party and, miraculously, a free bathroom.

As he was washing his hands he heard the clatter of a heavy bottle on concrete. He walked out and saw one of the beautiful glass doors with delicate brass fixtures slightly open. Curious, he went closer and saw a manicured hand gripping the neck of a half-empty, expensive bottle of champagne and a heap of white tulle. He tried to step back and flee unseen, but the wood floor creaked loudly beneath his foot, giving away his position.

Becky looked up from her place on the balcony directly at him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–” he began, but noticed her slightly smudged mascara and red rimmed eyes. Yet, still she gave him a smile that lit up her stained face.

He reached up to grab his neck in discomfort and she laughed at him. It was strange how this territory was all so familiar yet so foreign.

“Barry it’s okay. Sit with me.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know. I— well _we_ should both be getting back to your party.” He hoped it didn’t come out sounding bitter.

She turned away from him to look down over the courtyard, so he did too. He saw the faces of all the people gathered below celebrating her marriage and wishing her nothing but a lifetime of happiness. How different from the scene up here, of the bride spying on all of them through tipsy tears.

“Yeah, my party…my wedding.” She flashed a wavering smile that shattered into sobs. She made an effort to shield her face with her hand.

Despite everything he dropped to the floor with her without any hesitation.

“Hey, hey what’s the matter, Becky? It’s a happy day. There shouldn’t be any tears on a happy day, especially not yours.”

“What if I made a mistake?” She asked him in a small voice.

“You mean getting married?” He asked back just as small.

“I mean leaving you.”

He backed away slightly and her face fell harder.

“Barry I’m sorry…for all of it. I’m sorry for what I did to you, that I came between you and your family. That I ruined us. I never meant to hurt you I swear,” it came out of her mouth like vomit. 

He looked at her, clearly a little drunker than he thought, with her makeup ruined and her once pristine white dress now a little dirty and torn. And in that moment, for every bad thought he’d ever had for Becky, for every time he wished they’d never met, or gotten wasted trying to erase every memory she appeared in, he still wanted to protect her.

“I know, Beck.”

She leaned forward and kissed him, with a hand resting on his chest just like they did so long ago. When their lips met, he would’ve expected to feel sadness, or longing, or anger, or some other big, loud feeling. But in the moment he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. Like tuning the tv to static. And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. They pulled away from each other fast.

“I don’t know why I did that. God, I’m a horrible person! Why do I keep doing this to you!?” She said, bringing fisted hands to her head.

He sat back against the wall, grabbed the champagne from her, and took a long drink.

“You’re not horrible. You’re human and you’re confused,” he said in a rough but reassuring tone.

No matter how much he wanted to protect her he also knew this would be his only chance to say anything, speak now or forever hold your peace type deal for the second time that day. He took another, longer drink.

“You hurt me,” he said, looking out at the darkening sky against the party lights. “For a long time, a really long time, I wasn’t okay.” He let it hang in the air.

“I thought I hated you.” He could see her turn to face him out of the corner of his eye. “That you were the reason for all of the bad, fucked up shit in my life.” She shifted uncomfortably at that. He turned to look directly at her. “But I don’t and you weren’t. It’s in the past for me.

“I’ll always care about you, Beck. I want you to be happy,” he took a deep breath, “and my brother makes you happy.”

“I want you to be happy too, Barry.”

“For the first time in a while I think I am…,” he trailed off, holding the bottle in his lap. “I’m sorry, Becky, I have to go,” he said, starting to leave.

He faltered before pushing himself up.

“Are you gonna be okay?” He asked her.

“Eventually.”

Her words made him hesitate again.

“Go, Barry,” she told him with a smile.

He leaned in to kiss her cheek then left her there, on the floor, to pick herself back up. 

Passing through the archway, he walked back towards the white tent in the courtyard. He spotted Iris right away, sitting at a table off to the side, making idle conversation with someone he didn’t recognize.

“If everyone could take their seats, we’ll be starting speeches in a few minutes,” the band leader announced after a jazzy version of “I’ll Be There”.

“I need to talk to you. Would you excuse us,” he said to, more than asked, the other woman as he grabbed Iris’ hand.

“Sorry, Kamilla,” she apologized as she let him lead her away from the party. He took her to the fountain deeper in garden, far enough from the reception that they could be alone. They came upon a quiet bench where he brought her to sit. He racked his brain trying to find the right words as she stared at him with a look of concern.

“Bare what is it?” She asked. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

He took a breath.

“I just ran into Becky, and she was crying and, well basically, we talked about what happened between us and how she regretted what she did to me and then—”

He slowed down and looked at Iris. She sat there across from him, in front of a wall covered in vines, with tall bushes of deep red roses fully in bloom. She blended in well with the flora, looking like she too was growing out of the wall, and still looking beautiful as ever. The sun was gone without a trace and the rising full moon reflected on the surface of the fountain; the moonlight engulfed the scene in a subtle bluish-white, just bright enough that he could still make out her every feature. She sat there, in all of her overwhelming beauty, looking at him with worry in her eyes and he knew what he was about to say wouldn’t go down easy.

“And then she kissed me.”

He said it simply and didn’t let any time pass before going on.

“And it made everything so clear. All of the doubts that I’ve ever had are gone and now I know, really know, that I am completely over her.”

He waited for her reaction, to do anything at all. But nothing came. He kept talking.

“But that’s not the point,” he said taking her hands into his lap. “The point is that _you_ are everything to me. Iris, I think—no, I know that I am in love with you. Wth every part of me, Iris,” he said with a growing smile. “I think I’ve known it for a while now, maybe since the moment I met you. But now nothing is in the way and all I can see is you and us. I love you.”

Two seconds, three seconds, seven seconds passed; the longer she went without saying anything the more the smile slipped off his face.

“I-Iris? Did you hear me?” He asked, squeezing her hands.

“You kissed her?”

“Well she kissed me but, but yeah,” he said looking down, ashamed, but still refusing to let go, “we kissed but it finally gave me the closure I never got. I know, I know it was still wrong, and that you’re hurt, but–”

“But nothing. What is wrong with you?” She ripped her hands from his. “Get your head out of your ass and realize that what you do matters, Barry. I mean, god! This is your brother’s wedding and you kissed his wife!?” She said it with disgust and shock. She shot up from the bench and began to walk back and forth in front of the fountain.

Her words were true but he didn’t see it coming. He knew she’d be upset, but she made it sound like it was over a matter of propriety not of her betrayal. It was worse. He watched her wrap her arms tightly around her stomach and continue to pace in brooding silence.

“Iris,” he said pleadingly.

“Do you know that your mom loves you?”

“What? Yeah, yes. Of course I do.”

“Really? Because you’ve barely spoken to her in the past ten years because of something that happened _in high school_ ,” she accused.

“It’s not that simple,” he felt himself getting frustrated. He shook his head in attempt to clear the sudden fog. “Iris, don’t you have anything to say about the fact that I am in love with you?”

“Jesus, Barry! All she wants is to know how you are and be a part of your life. But no, you know what? You’re right. It’s not that simple,” she answered, ignoring his question. “But I’m sick of you acting like the entire world is against you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” His voice was rising. “Iris,” he tried again, “I love you.”

“You are a grown man! You can literally do anything you want. God, you have every door wide open to you but you’re too afraid to piss off your dad and go after anything so instead you just wait around killing time standing behind a bar!”

It was like she was blindly swinging her gloves as hard as she could, hoping to land a knockout.

“And you know what the sad part is? You could do anything even without all that because you’re smart, Barry, and you’re talented, and you can work really hard when you want to. You’re just too scared and don’t give enough of a shit to move in any direction at all!”

Nothing she said made sense; she was intentionally pushing his buttons, poking at anything that she knew would upset him. He couldn’t understand why she was trying so hard to pick a fight with him, why she was ripping his exposed heart to shreds with her bare hands. But it worked and he gave her what she wanted (as if he could ever do anything else).

“That’s funny,” he said after a scoff. “ _You_ want to talk about being scared?”

“Excuse me?” She said, finally halting her pacing.

“You’re too chicken shit to start over! You hate your job, Iris? Then do something about it! Nobody’s stopping you but, oh yeah, that’s right: you’re terrified of failing. Worse, you’re scared of the possibility that things might actually change! And don’t try to pretend that you’re so much better than me. When was the last time you talked to your dad?”

“That’s not fair.”

“You won’t even give him a chance to apologize, instead you just hide behind that wall you’ve spent so long putting up.” The words kept coming without him fully processing any of them; he was running on raw, ugly emotion, and he couldn’t stop them.

“That’s not fair.” This time she said it a little sterner.

“Fine,” he backed off, but he wasn’t done. “Then what about us?"

“What about us?!”

He was sure that someone from the wedding could probably hear them but he didn’t care.

“You act like you might love me too but then you pull away,” he said to her with unsettling calm. “Like this: I tell you I love you and you start a fight with me.”

“You just told me you kissed your brother’s wife!” She interjected.

They were both quiet for a moment. Somewhere in the distance fireworks were set off. Rockets detonated in the sky raining down burning spirals in red, blue, and gold. She looked up at them but he stayed focused on her, watching how the violent colors altered the light hitting her face.

“You don’t have to love me, Iris. But I need you to accept how I feel about you.”

She stared at a fixed spot, refusing to look at him. The last fireworks fizzled out and the light steadied. Still, she said nothing.

“Fine,” he said with more anger than anything. “And yeah, I’m scared. I’m terrified and I have no idea what the hell I’m doing! But at least I know how I feel. From the beginning you were too scared to even give us a try, and now you’re too scared to admit to yourself that you might actually be happy!”

She froze. He could still feel angry adrenaline pushing him.

“Oh what?! You don’t have anything left to say!?” He demanded.

“No,” she said quietly, looking back down, away from him.

“Then I guess we’re done here.”

“I guess so,” he caught as he walked out of the garden.

He walked straight to the bar and ordered two scotches over the crowd cheering for some happy reminder of the beginning of the young couple’s life together. He downed the first one immediately. He loosened his tie and drank the other.

He spent the next few hours in isolation at the bar, continuing to drink. He could feel all of the stares directed his way, all the hushed whispers explaining what it was all about. He knew that half of them were sure he was drinking over Becky, and the other half probably thought he was the estranged alcoholic brother the rest of the family doesn’t like to talk about. But he couldn’t care less. All he knew what that he was only one more drink away from finally silencing the pain; that somewhere, at the bottom of one of those bottles, was the rest of his life and his happiness. And he was going to find it.

Eventually he was cut off and someone put him in a cab back home. The whole ride there he went over what he was going to say to her, mostly, in his head. He managed to pay the driver and stumble up the stairs to his bedroom. He opened the door, prepared to apologize but he found her things gone. He went to the bathroom to double check but, still, came up empty. No trace of her left behind, not even a note.

He whipped out his phone and fired off a text before passing out on top of the sheets.

_Barry 1:43am_

> Wht happened tonot gong anywheree?

> [ _message could not be delivered_ ]


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: alcoholism  
> \--  
> alright, we're gonna do this one quick like a band-aid, so stay with me people.

She woke in her bed, her phone thrown in the corner with her bag and her green dress. Linda knew better than to ask what was wrong when she came home early, instead she offered silent affection and support. The last time she’d stayed in bed all day it was a warm, happy place filled with laughter and kisses. She stayed because she wanted to be there. Now she stayed out of necessity; it was the only place she could be that didn’t completely exhaust her. Venturing beyond the corners of the mattress was an overwhelming prospect. She felt chained there, beneath the sheets. By the afternoon she had no more tears, just a pounding headache. Linda tried to bring her something to eat but she just wasn’t hungry. By that night she couldn’t even definitively say how she felt. Sure, there were alternating waves of crushing sadness, frustration, anger, but they all blurred together leaving her feeling numb.

Monday rolled around and she called in sick. The next day she went in, but she wasn’t really there. She didn’t put much effort into her work clothes, she didn’t bother trying to fake conversation with coworkers. She did what she had to then went home. During the day all she wanted to do was go back to bed and sleep, but the nights…the nights were worse. Each time she closed her eyes nasty thoughts ran through her head. Thoughts so loud, they kept her from sleep night after night, showing no sign of letting up.

By the end of the week Linda’s patience ran out. She walked into her bedroom, without knocking. Iris could hear her shut the door and walk over to the bed and braced herself for tough love. Instead of attempting to pull Iris out she silently got in under the covers with her, leaving her space but watching her in the dimmed afternoon light filtering in through the bed sheet. They laid there for a while until Iris turned over to face her. Before she could say anything the tears began to fall again. Linda silently comforted her, waiting for her to find any words, if she could. Eventually her sobs quieted and her breaths weren’t so shallow.

“I messed it all up.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is, Lin! It is.”

She brought her hand to Iris’ face.

“Oh, honey,” she said softly.

“I messed it all up.”

Linda stayed with her, keeping watch for all of those nasty thoughts, and finally Iris was able to sleep for a few hours. But still she wasn’t the same. She couldn’t really sleep and not even Linda could get her to eat a proper meal — she just wasn’t hungry.

——

He woke the next day with a vomit filled garbage can beside him and a colossal headache. He grabbed his phone to look at the time and found the messaged he’d sent to her the night before. Still it said “undelivered”. She must have already blocked his number. He showered off the sweat and dried vomit, packed his things in his bag, and went down to slip out. His mother sat at the kitchen table with two cups of coffee, waiting for him.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened last night?” She asked.

He grabbed a mug and took a seat, dropping his bag to the ground. He knew there was no way of getting out of this.

“Iris…” he started but didn’t know how to finish it.

“I saw she took the train back to the city,” his mom said with understanding.

He stayed quiet and looked out the window. He felt her hand come to rest on top of his.

“I’m sure whatever happened you’ll figure it out. I saw the way the two of you look at each other: that’s not something that goes away after one bad night. Trust me. Just give her some time.”

He looked at his mother and wondered how, after all of this, after everything he’d put her through, she was still so supportive of him. So quick to comfort him, to offer a shoulder or a hand.

“I love you, mom. So much. And I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

She looked touched.

“Oh, I love you too, Barry. Always have, always will,” she said with a chuckle.

They embraced in the kitchen, each of them trying to ensure that the other knew how boundless that love was. She pulled away and kissed him on the cheek.

“My beautiful boy,” she said holding his face.

He grabbed her hands and held them there for a second more.

“I’m gonna be around more from now on. I swear. I want you to know what’s going on in my life and I want to know what’s going on in yours. Okay?”

“Sounds like a good deal to me,” she said.

“Okay,” he stood and grabbed his bag from the floor. “I have to hit the road. But I’ll text you once I’m home, I promise.”

“Okay,” she laughed a little. “Drive safe, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too, mom.”

His mom walked him out and waved goodbye as he pulled out of the driveway. He drove all the way home in silence, he dropped the car off with Cisco and Cindy, chatting pleasantly enough with them both for a while but saying he wasn’t feeling well enough for dinner. They were persistent in questions, clearly they could tell something was wrong and that, more likely than not, it had to do with Iris. But Barry couldn’t stomach that conversation.

He returned back to his apartment, he unpacked his bag, texted his mom, then he went to his liquor cabinet. He stared at his undelivered text while he worked through whatever he had in the house to drink, until his eyes couldn’t focus on the message anymore, until he couldn’t sit up straight, until he was flat on his back and couldn’t feel anything anymore.

He woke up on the floor of his living room, beside an empty bottle and his phone. He ignored Cisco’s worried texts, stopped in at the bar for the mail and went out to someplace quieter by the port. He found a random bar with a couple other silent drinkers. He was smart enough to know that he couldn’t very well get drunk at his own bar, at least not without drawing unwanted concern. He handed off bartending duty to Gar and the rest of his staff, they could more that manage without him. During the day, he’d sleep as best he could and try to show up every now and then to save face — though he couldn’t get through conversations without blowing up, even with customers. His people would check in on him, but most kept their distance. Nights he’d go out, trying to forget the days behind him, trying to forget the days to come. He couldn’t think too hard about how he felt, if he did he was sure he’d get completely swallowed up by it all and never find a way out. If he let himself think about it, if he really let himself think about her…So he didn’t.

The third time he cancelled Sunday night dinner, saying he wasn’t up to it, Cisco showed up at his apartment unannounced — somewhere between his fifth and sixth beer. Barry stumbled to the door and let him in.

He took a step inside and surveyed the apartment, taking note of every empty and half-empty bottle.

“Cisco, it’s not–” he tried to deflect.

“If what I think is happening here is happening it better not be.”

“It’s not, man, everything–” he cut off as he stumbled trying to walk over to him. “Everything is fine.”

“No it’s not, Barry. What is going on with you!? The last time I saw you this bad was after Becky…” a sudden realization appeared on his face. “Did something happen with her!? At the wedding?”

“What? No! I mean, yes but it-it wasn’t like that! It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

“Stop saying that! _Clearly_ everything is NOT fine!” He said gesturing around.

“What are you even doing here man!? No one asked you to come here! So why don’t you just go back home, alright!?” He yelled back.

“Don’t walk away from me,” Cisco said, getting in his way to stop him.

“Move, Cisco.”

“No! Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I said get out of my face, man,” he said with a shove.

“What are you gonna do about it? You’re too drunk and feeling too sorry for yourself to do anything.”

“That’s it!” Barry yelled, as he tackled Cisco into the sofa.

The sudden movement made him dizzy, and Cisco was able to easily roll over and pin him to the floor, pushing his face down to hold him there.

“You could never even pin me sober, boy!” He yelled a little victoriously. He moved and offered him a hand up. Barry eyed it for a second before accepting it and sitting on the couch.

“Where’s Iris?” Cisco asked. As soon as he said it aloud it clicked. “What happened at the wedding?”

He shook his head.

“She left me, man,” he said, reaching over to swipe one of the half-empty bottles from the coffee table.

Cisco looked on with disapproval but didn’t stop him this time.

“Why don’t you go after her? Stop sitting here and go talk to her. It worked last time.”

“No, man. You don’t get it. I laid it all out. She made it clear she doesn’t want me. I’m not gonna do that to her anymore.”

“Barry–”

“I told her I love her.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“What did she say?”

He stayed quiet then took another drink.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah well. What are you gonna do?”

He got up from the couch and stumbled over to the kitchen, he propped himself up leaning over the sink. He felt disgusting. The outside matching the inside.

“Not this,” Cisco said, as he walked to a cabinet to get a garbage bag. “I’m not letting you do this again.”

“Cisco, it’s not that bad.”

“I don’t want you seeing Sam anymore,” he said abruptly, yet calm.

“What!?”

“Not while you’re like this anyway.”

“Cisco.”

“You can be sad all you want Barry, that’s fine. But I’m not gonna let you destroy yourself again. And I’m sure as hell not gonna let you do it anywhere near _my_ son,” he said as he collected the last bottles from around the apartment. He walked over and held out his hand for the one Barry held on to. He considered it for a moment then reluctantly handed it over to Cisco. He put it in the bag with the others and walked to the door.

“I know you can get through this, man. But not like this,” he opened it to walk out but a thought came to him. “Have you tried working on something? It helped last time.”

He shook his head no.

“I don’t know, dude. But you can’t do nothing. Call me—if you need anything, you know?”

Barry sat alone in the silence, bringing his hands to his head. _How did I get here?_

——

The end of the summer was a blur. She hardly noticed the days getting shorter, the nights getting cooler. One weekend, before the start of the fall semester Wally came to “visit”, though she was sure Linda had called him worried about her. She was glad to have her brother staying with them, regardless of the reason. Plus, it was always fun to see him and Linda together: he’d always harbored an enormous crush on her that managed to walk the line between endearing and creepy, yet more often then not manifested in him being a complete pain in the ass. For as long as she’d known Linda, Wally was the only person who could really get under her skin.

His visit began easy enough: catching up on his summer, reminiscing about old times, splitting a bottle of wine while they did puzzles and watched old movies.

On the way back from the bathroom after they’d finished _Casablanca_ she caught the tail end of a conversation not meant for her ears.

“Wally I don’t know what to do anymore…”

“Iris! You’re back from the bathroom!”

Linda whipped around to face her. Iris pretended like she hadn’t heard any of it, instead walking back over to the couch to reclaim her spot in their burrow of blankets.

“You know, I was thinking,” Wally started, putting an arm around each of the girls. “I’m 22 now and I’ve never gone out with my big sister, or her best friend who is so clearlyin love with me.”

“Dream on, skinny legs,” Linda said, removing his arm from her shoulder.

“Ouch.”

“Why not,” Iris said plainly to their equal surprise.

“Really?”

“Sure, why not? Let’s do it.”

“Oh-kay,” Linda said warily as she watched Iris go back to her room to get ready.

She did her hair and her makeup, pulled the shortest, tightest dress from the back of her closet, and threw on stilettos. Looking herself over in the mirror she felt sexy, powerful, the most she’d felt since…No, she wasn’t going to think about him tonight. It was getting pathetic and her ass looked really good in this dress. They decided on a salsa club, not too far from the apartment and set out for the night. Linda kept shooting her worried looks as they walked, but she ignored them. She was on a mission to prove to them, and maybe a little to herself, that she could still have a good time.

They showed the bouncer their IDs and walked down the steps to the packed club. A live band was playing in the corner and everyone was dancing. Before they could look too long Wally pulled his sister to the dance floor to get the night started. There was a bit of unspoken competition between the siblings but it was all in good fun. When she couldn’t keep up with him anymore she made a move for Linda to pull her in and watch her little brother get flustered. She danced with the two of them, laughing until she she couldn’t breathe and reaching a happy level of drunk.

At one point a guy came up to her asking for a dance. It was nothing too invasive; he really was just looking for a dance, which she agreed to. He was a little short, but good looking, with a great smile and a pretty accent, not to mention a great dancer. They moved effortlessly as Linda and Wally watched with a shared look of approval. It was okay. She was having fun with an attractive guy on a Saturday night and it was okay. After three or four more dances, at about two in the morning, he brought her over to the bar to buy her a drink.

He leaned in close to her ear and, over the boisterous sounds of horns and drums, suavely asked for her number. She smiled coquettishly and gave it to him, with confidence, then cooly strutted away without looking back. With that she collected her people and went back home, laughing about the night, reveling in the feeling of being out on the streets so late.

“It’s good to see you back on your game, sis,” Wally said once they made it upstairs. “I might be scarred for life, but go off queen.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to be back,” she said, stepping out of her heels. “I’m gonna head to bed. Goodnight, I love you guys.”

“Night, Iris.”

“Goodnight, hon.”

She left them at the counter, scouring the kitchen for any late-night sustenance before they finally gave up, deciding to venture down to the corner for street food from the halal cart.

She shut the door behind her and sank to the floor of her bedroom, finally releasing the tears she’d been holding back since putting her number in his phone. It ripped her in two. She was tired of having to be okay for the people in her life, of constantly putting on a mask because she should be okay by now. Why didn’t she feel okay by now?

She pulled herself up and went to her closet possessed by a sudden, single-minded frenzy. _Where is it? Where is it!?_ She tore through all of her clothes — not caring about the mess, in fact wanting to rip up everything that got in her way that wasn’t it. When she still couldn’t find what she was looking for she moved to the dresser, pulling each drawer out from its slot and dumping the contents on the floor in her search. Finally, in the bottom one she dug all the way to the back and found the soft material trapped behind the drawer: his sweatshirt that she still had from their day at the beach.

She sat back against the door, clutching it to her face as she cried. Eventually she heard the front door open again, the sound of their laughter filling the apartment as they entered. She held her breath so she could just barely make out their words coming into the room from the inch of space between the bottom of her door and the floor.

“I know you want me.”

“Don’t you have your little boyfriend back at college?”

“I’m not hearing a no.”

She relaxed a little at the familiarity but still she held tight to the sweatshirt.

“This is the best I’ve seen her in a while,” she could hear Linda saying.

“How bad’s it been?”

“Really bad, Wal. She hardly eats and I don’t know the last time she was able to sleep through the night. All she ever wants to do is lay in bed. I’m really worried about her, I’ve never seen her like this.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”

_Linda was crying? Linda never cries._

“She’s my best friend and I don’t know how to help her. I’m scared, Wally.”

She’d never wanted that. The thought that they were so worried about her, that she was a burden to them….it crushed her.

“I’m scared too. But my big sister is the toughest person I’ve ever met. Well, besides you, Lin.” She heard a momentary pause before he continued. “You saw her out there tonight! I know she’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“I hope you’re right…”

She surveyed the wreckage of her room; papers torn in sudden anger, unchanged sheets, clothes everywhere. She dragged herself from the floor back into bed and cuddled up close to the sweatshirt. _I hope so too_.

——

Partially to his surprise, Malcolm followed up on his suggestion to hang out. He planned an honest to god fishing trip for the two of them out on a lake an hour or so outside the city. He picked Barry up and they drove out together. He had two poles, a tackle box, containers of bait, and a blue cooler— all still with their price tags from the sporting goods store. They rented a little dinghy from the dock and took it out to the middle of the lake.

It was a perfect day for it; cool but sunny and not too windy. Malcolm recounted the joys and fiascos of newly wed life. He told Barry about getting attacked by bats while spelunking in Costa Rica on their honeymoon and having to rely on whatever Spanish he could remember from high school to explain what happened and ask for a rabies shot at the hospital. He seemed happy, really genuinely happy. And, for the first time, he wasn’t jealous. He was glad for his big brother. And for Becky.

“Hey, you want a beer?” Malcolm asked getting one for himself out of the cooler.

“Nah. Uh, actually I’m kinda off drinking.”

“Oh! I didn’t know that…um well,” he suddenly looked flustered as he dug downto the corners. “I have one can of root-beer somewhere in here I think. Or, um, I have some Powerade in the trunk of my car. It might be a little hot by now but I could just run back and get it, if that’d be good for you?”

Barry laughed at Malcolm’s sheer panic as he chucked his own beer back into the cooler. He was beginning to find that the funniest thing about sobriety was other people’s reactions to it — though not always funny haha. But he’d take that a thousand times over for Sammy’s sake.

“No, it’s fine. I got my water. Mal, _you_ can still drink, it’s okay I swear.”

He shrugged and pulled the beer back out. He popped the tab and took a cautious sip while keeping an eye on Barry, as if he might lunge over and steal it out of his hand.

“So when did that happen?”

“How long ago was your wedding?”

“Ah. Right. I do vaguely recall Uncle Brent and Robbie trying to get you in a cab.”

“Not my finest moment.”

“So what happened?” He asked cautiously; it was clear the underlying question was if he and Becky had been the cause of his sudden sobriety.

He looked around at the stillness of the lake, watching a couple ducks land on the surface. There was no one else around and it was pleasantly quiet.

“Iris broke up with me.” Every time he had to say it felt like an oceans worth of salt in the still fresh wound. Still, he wanted to be honest with his brother, even if he didn’t feel like getting into specifics.

“Bummer,” Malcolm said, taking another swig from his can.

“Yep,” Barry agreed drinking a little water before changing the bait on his hook.

He cast his line back in the lake, not because he was actually interested in fishing but just to have something to keep himself from falling into those thoughts.

“You want your big brother’s advice?”

“Not really.”

“Well too bad, you’re gonna get it.” He took a second to readjust his baseball cap. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

Barry waited for Malcolm to continue but he didn’t. He just relaxed back with his beer surveying the water.

“That’s it? _That’s_ your advice?”

“Yup.”

“That sucks, Mal.”

“Listen here, little brother: I know you know that if you want something you gotta go for it and blah blah all that junk. That part’s obvious. But, at a certain point, it comes down to figuring out if what you’ve been fighting for this whole time was even supposed to be yours to begin with.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that you need to ask yourself is it in your power or is it out of your hands?”

“Like I said, full of shit.”

“Take it or leave it, little brother, take it or leave it…”

He brought the bill of his hat down over his eyes and put his feet up on the seat.

“Hey you still do your doodles?”

“Not really. Why?”

“I don’t know. You were always so good.”

They left the lake without catching a single fish between them and two prominent sunburns.

——

Sometimes it felt like a dream — thoughts of them, together, running around the city came to her like deja vu and sometimes she couldn’t be sure they really happened. Still, as summer finally turned to autumn, and one month without him turned to two, she picked herself back up and dusted herself off. Maybe a little more mechanic now and maybe keeping just a bit more to herself, but she was moving again.

At the end of October, just a few days before Halloween, she decided it was time for her semi annual room purge. She woke up that Saturday at 7am for no particular reason and with no plans for the day and decided it was time. She put on her overalls and tied her hair up into a barely held together bun, hit shuffle on her music, and got the roll of garbage bags from under the kitchen sink. First she went through her closet, sorting things into piles of keep, hide in Linda’s closet, and donate. She worked her way form the closet to her dresser and even under her bed, managing to fill three trash bags. It felt good to clean everything out. She felt like she was making space to start over. After a brief lunch break with Linda she went to her room ready to take on her desk. Linda was shocked at her productivity.

In the middle of belting along to Whitney she came across her finished copy of her red-lining article; the one that she’d printed out to bring to the interview she never made it to. It made her fall back into her desk chair into a ruminating silence. What was she doing? Really. She looked back to her bed and saw his sweatshirt tucked into the pillows where she’d been sleeping with it for the past month. What was stopping her from starting the rest of her life? As far as she could tell she pretty much had nothing left to lose. And going on like this was no way to live. 

Before she could think better of it she opened up her laptop and sent herself into a frenzy sending emails and résumés to any place that wasn’t _Snub_. She knew that in all likelihood the best she’d get in response was an annoyed email telling her not to reach out again but this felt better than doing nothing. After sending her résumé off to as many places as she could think of, she went on to Facebook and typed “Kamilla” into the search bar. There, next to a precious photo of her and Maddie, was Kamilla Hwang, and she patted herself on the back for having enough networking skills to have friended her on Facebook. She typed and retyped a message, held her breath as she read it one final time figuring it was direct without being demanding, and hit send.

_Iris 3:12pm_

> Hey Kamilla, I hope all is well with you and Maddie! I was wondering if you might be free for coffee sometime soon to talk newspaper.

Much to her surprise her response came right away.

_Kamilla 3:12pm_

_> _Iris! I’m so happy to hear from you! I would LOVE to, is tomorrow too soon?? (I’m dying for a break from dinosaur chicken nuggets and the suburbs)

The next day Iris met Kamilla at Jitters for an afternoon coffee with her laptop and external hard drive filled with every piece she’d published since high school. To her surprise, Kamilla wanted to get right down to it (not that she wasn’t content with conversation with another human female adult, but she couldn’t wait to dive into shoptalk).

“I’m sure you already know but these articles are great, Iris, really,” she said sliding the laptop back to Iris.

“Thanks, Kamilla,” Iris said, unable to hide her beaming.

“If you want, I still have a few contacts over at CCPN. I could pull some strings, get you in for an interview.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Iris said, wanting desperately to accept but hating the idea of taking advantage of her new friend.

“Iris, stop. It would be my pleasure. Your work deserves to reach a bigger audience, girl. At the right publication I know that you can make a difference for the better,” she told her sincerely.

“Thank you.”

“I wouldn’t be saying it if it wasn’t true,” Kamilla said, reaching over to pat Iris’ shoulder. “I’ll make a few calls and try to get you in there this week.”

“This week?”

“Yeah, why? That doesn’t work for you?”

“No, nothing that’d be amazing, of course! It’s just so soon…”

“I don’t want to rush you if you don’t feel like you’re ready…”

Barry’s words still played in the back of her mind: that she was too scared of change to go after what she wanted, that if she didn’t do something soon she was gonna be stuck in the same place every day for the rest of her life.

“No!” she half-yelled, loud enough for a few people to turn their heads. She cleared her throat, a tad embarrassed by the attention drawn by her little outburst. “No. I’m ready.”

She walked out of the CCPN interview feeling unsteady. It hadn’t been bad, she was able to hold a conversation with the interviewer, and they seemed to like her enough. Of course there was the point of her lack of degree which gave them pause before sending Iris on with her day without even taking a copy of her article to review. At the least she was proud of herself for actually going through with it…even if they didn’t think she was capable. But at least she was no longer doing nothing even if there was that unshakeable feeling that she wasn’t good enough. 

“Iris? Iris West?” A voice calling her name pulled her from her dejected thoughts as she called the elevator. She turned around to see where it had come from. It took her a second to place the face.

“Professor Bridge?” She asked unsure while the unkempt man with a goatee wearing in an ill-fitting button-down walked towards her. As he came to a stop she could see the mustard stain on his collar sticking out from a pilling sweater vest. 

“Oh please, you can drop the title; I haven’t been Professor Bridge since those hacks wouldn’t offer me tenure,” he seemed to get caught on that before going on.“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Decided to grace us with your talents?”

“I hope so, but don’t hold your breath,” she said, her sentence descending to self-deprecation.

He squinted his eyes as he considered her.

“Are you free for coffee?” He asked abruptly.

“What now?” She was shocked he even recognized her all these years later let alone that he was volunteering to catch up with her.

He walked on to the elevator and waited for her to follow.

“You comin’, West?” Clearly it wasn’t optional, plus she had already taken the rest of the afternoon off. A little frustrated that her plans to go home were obliterated, she got on.

He brought her to the coffee shop just across the street and ordered two black coffees without consulting her. He ushered her over to a high-top table by the window and told her to sit.

“I’m dying to hear what you’ve been up to these past years; I’m sure you’ve won a Pulitzer or two by now.” It was evident in his tone he was trying to get more information out of her.

“Haha, yeah…” she said lifting her drink.

“Okay, West, cut the bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were the best student I ever had, which, to be fair, compared to those other knuckleheads isn’t saying much. You had _it_ , kid.”

She stayed quiet as he waited for her response then seemed disappointed when she didn’t have anything to say.

“Where are you writing?”

“ _Snub_ ,” she told him with a wince.

“You’ve been writing for that piece of shit!? Oh, West, how the mighty have fallen,” he chided in a patronizing way. Now she could remember just how much she despised his class.

“Excuse me, Mason, what exactly have _you_ been doing since I last saw you?”

He shot up his hands in defense and she maintained her defensive stare.

“What happened, kid?”

She took a breath and looked him over once more. He seemed sincere.

“I never graduated. _Snub_ was the only place that would hire me so I’ve been there since,” she said simply, feeling it wasn’t necessary to go into all the details.

“Geez,” he said as he took a sip from his coffee.

“So now I’m sending my résumé any place I can think of, praying _someone_ can look past that.”

“How’s that been going?”

“How do you think,” she shot back bitterly. 

“I see…Do you have anything not about Brad Pitt’s asshole written?”

She took the copy of her latest story out that the interviewer hadn’t even bothered to keep and dropped it on the table.

“All right,” he said before chugging the rest of his coffee and getting up out of his seat. He grabbed her article off the table and made to leave.

“That’s it?” She asked, completely confused by the entire interaction.

“For now,” he said without turning back to her as he walked out the door.

A week later, in the middle of her afternoon coffee break she saw the email:

 

> **Mason Bridge** < _masonbridge@ccpn.com_ >
> 
> to Iris West
> 
>        Read the article, have some notes.We have a partnership with CCU that might work for you. You’ll get a junior writing position while you finish up credits for your BA and then you’ll be on staff under me, investigative reporting. Gonna be lots of hard work, late nights, bullshit assignments. Won’t be easy. You still got it, kid.
> 
> Let me know what you think,
> 
> Mason

——

This was the slowest time had ever gone. He took a drag on his joint as he stared at the blank canvas. He knew he probably shouldn’t be smoking but it was just a little weed, and he’d been staring at the same white board for the past week with no luck. Anytime he thought something _might_ be coming to him, it evaporated from his mind just as the image started to come into focus. And anything he did manage to draw was terrible — nothing looked like anything. After the joint he decided he needed some fresh air. He grabbed his jacket and his scarf to go out. Before he made it out the door he doubled back to grab a pen and his notebook, just in case.

It was sunny and chilly, yet still unseasonably warm for November. He let his legs carry him towards the park. There weren’t too many people out but then again it was two o’clock on a Wednesday, and any decent person was either at work or at school, facing their responsibilities. He stopped on a grand looking old bridge that stretched over the pond. Not for the first time that day he wondered how she was, what she was doing, where she was doing it, who she was doing it with. He kept on walking to the other side of the bridge. He never let himself fully explore those thoughts because if he did… _What? If I let myself think about her then what?_ he thought over his normal, defensive thoughts.

He kept on walking down the sidewalk, veering off on to the dirt trail leading up higher in the park. The trail opened to a solitary bench overlooking a grassy hill where a few people relaxed, sprawled out in their sweatshirts, trying to enjoy the fleeting moment of sun. He pulled out his notebook to sketch the figures, hopefully to jumpstart some unconscious inspiration. He worked in quick, broad strokes and let his mind wander off the page. _I wonder if she’s been back to the dumpling place. I wonder if she finished that book I gave her. I wonder how she dresses in the winter. I wonder if she still hasn’t caught up with that TV show. I wonder if she and Linda have thrown anymore parties._

He looked down at his notebook at the half-assed figures and sighed. He opened to a new page to try again and again his mind began to drift. _I wonder if she goes out. I wonder if she’s seeing people. I wonder if she’s slept with anyone. I wonder if she’s with someone else._ He scribbled angrily over the warped drawing. He let out another frustrated sigh. He set the notebook on the ground and rested his head, defeated, in his hands. He breathed in and out until his fist unclenched again. He took out his phone against his better judgment and opened the camera roll, scrolling back a bit until he found the picture of her in the diner. The one where she’s in the throes of laughter with his sunglasses on her head, looking at him behind the camera like she might really…

He closed out of the app and dropped his phone on top of the notebook. He looked around at his surroundings. He opened the sketchbook to the back and flipped through his sketches. Every last one of them were of her. Iris hunched over her computer, typing away. Iris putting on her lipstick in the mirror. Iris lying in bed with her hair splayed out against his pillow. He felt a little gross and wrong for it but she was the only thing in his brain. Always. Every time he closed his eyes all he ever saw was her. He turned to a new page in the back and began sketching her laughing as she was in the photo. _I wonder if she thinks about me. I wonder if she misses me. I wonder if she misses me the way I miss her._

He stayed there for a while longer until the sun tucked away, back behind the clouds with no sign of coming out again. He stopped at the corner store to buy a diet-coke before going back up to his apartment. As he was getting his keys out to open the door to his building his downstairs neighbor burst out, looking like he was going out for a jog, bumping into him in his rush and spilling the drink all over his shirt.

“Awesome,” he said to himself as he continued on to his apartment.

He grumbled as he tore the shirt off and went to get a new one from his closet. As he pulled the shirt over his head he stopped to look at the white teddybear stuffed up on the top shelf. He didn’t care to admit how many nights he’d spent clinging to it like a little kid since she’d gone. He grabbed it and walked back out into the living room to the blank canvas. He went to work again. Without any semblance of a plan he squeezed colors out onto the palette; greens, blues, purples, black, white, a little yellow. He picked up his brush and took green to the canvas with long strokes until he saw leaves and a stem. He cleaned the brush and took blue and a little black going until he saw the shadows of the petals, going in again with purple and white for the highlights. His hands kept moving as he lost himself in the task, unable to feel anything other than the need to put paint on the canvas.

It wasn’t until 3am that he finally surfaced from the work and put the brush down. He stood back to see what he’d done, immediately feeling the cramp and the tightness in his hand.

“What do you think?” He asked the bear wearing the flannel.

Bear-y stayed frozen in his spot on the couch.

“Okay, so, _technically_ , it’s an iris but at least it’s not actually her,” he said. The inanimate object began to slip down from its place until it rested on its side, knocked over, in a new position. “Don’t give me that look.”

He looked back at his canvas, wiping the paint off his hands, surveying what he’d done. It was the first time in a long time he was satisfied with his work.

_I wonder if she’s happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that one was tough but we had to see how the kids dealt with all them emotions. Hopefully it wasn't too bad (plus you got a little Wally/Linda moment so it couldn't have been horrible). Now back to our regularly scheduled programing.


	16. Chapter 16

It was a rainy night in March, the preview night before the art show he’d been invited to participate in opened on Friday. He still wasn’t sure that Cisco didn’t bribe his gallery friend he knew from work to ask him, but he didn’t care. He’d been waiting for the night for months; he’d never worked harder on anything, even if it was just a small show with a few other newcomers to the Central City art scene. Walking around the gallery there were paintings, sculptures, art films projected onto the walls, even some performance art featuring the artist dressed all in black eating hamburgers in an adult sized highchair. Compared to all that his flower paintings seemed a little boring. Still he was proud. He’d received congratulations and words of support from just about everyone: Cisco and Cindy, his mom, Malcolm and Becky, even his dad sent him a text (it only read “congrats” with no explanation but it was still nice).

Cindy had just stopped in for a second on her way home from work to see how it was all going. She wasn’t the most artistically inclined person but when she said that his paintings were “pretty” he knew she meant it from the bottom of her heart. Everyone else was coming the day of the official opening, so for the rest of the night he was left to field questions from curious onlookers who had no intention of buying any of his work.

He stood in front of his paintings in the far back corner of the gallery, next to the wall plaque that offered his brief bio: “ _Barry Allen (1989-) is new to the Central City art scene. This is his first series of works, all untitled, that focus on botanical life. Allen lives and works in Central City._ ” Short and sweet.

He rocked on his heels with his hands shoved in his pockets. It looked like no one was coming over to his corner anytime soon so he decided to abandon his post to head to the snack table. The sweater Cindy got for him was a little itchy. It looked nice with his slacks but he wouldn’t have worn it if she didn’t force him (“you can’t wear a t-shirt, Barry” even though he’d seen at least four other people wearing t-shirts). She had a few words for him about wearing sneakers but it was his night and couldn’t he at least have this? She backed off but not without letting him know that he was just an overgrown twelve year old. Stuffing a cocktail wiener in his mouth he surveyed the room.

There, standing in a crowd watching the performance art, he saw her. He had to do a double take to make sure she was really there and it wasn’t just his sleep deprived brain playing tricks on him. But there she was. Distracted by the revelation, the cocktail wiener went down the wrong pipe. He chocked aggressively enough for a waiter to clap him on the back and offer water. He couldn’t help but think that, of course, the universe would have him run into her only to have him instantly choke to death on a cocktail wiener. Finally, he swallowed the piece of meat and could return his attention back to her.

All of a sudden his mouth felt dry and his palms felt sweaty. Go figure that in a city of six million people the universe always put that one in your path when you least expected it. He hadn’t seen her since that night, almost eight months ago. Her hair was cut shorter, the curls stopping just below her shoulders now. She was wearing a black dress and, he wasn’t sure, but he thought she looked a little thinner. He envisioned running into her, at first, everyday after she left. Maybe at the grocery store as they both reached for a box of cereal, or getting off the train. They’d chat for a while until he worked up the nerve to ask her to coffee and then they’d talk and things would get back to how they were. He still fantasized about it from time to time but he also knew that coffee wouldn’t fix whatever it was that went wrong.

He ran a hand through his hair, surely fluffing it up too much, and started to walk towards her. All he needed was to talk to her, to just hear her voice again and he could go back to his life. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the guy standing next to her throw an arm around her shoulder and whisper something to her that made her burst out with laughter. God he’d missed that sound. He fumbled, not sure what to do. He turned on his heel, hoping to race back to his little corner where he could have his internal breakdown in peace, but of course he crashed right into someone, knocking the glass from their hand with a loud shatter. He dropped down to try to pick up some of the larger shards while fumbling through a slew of apologies until someone from the gallery came to take over with a proper broom and dustpan. He looked down at his new sweater to see it splattered with red wine. It looked just like the abstract expressionism being displayed on the other side of the room.

“Barry?”

He took a breath and stood up to turn and face her. It was like seeing the sun again after being trapped underground; warm and satisfying but excruciatingly overwhelming and painful to look at nonetheless.

“Hi, Iris,” he said, breathless. The entire room faded to black and the sound muted. All he could see was her standing in front of him, just as he’d pictured for the better part of the last year and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He kept opening and closing his mouth hoping something half intelligible would come out.

“Hi,” he settled on. She smiled at him. He missed that, too.

“You have a mustache now,” she said not even acknowledging his ruined sweater. He appreciated her leaving whatever semblance of confidence he had left in tact.

“Yeah,” his hand flew to his upper lip. He’d spent the winter trying to fully grow his beard but it came in too patchy. Cisco forced him to shave the day before, allowing him to hold on to the semi-decent mustache. Now he was regretting it. He cleared his throat. “I thought it made me look more artsy,” he offered back.

“It looks good.”

There was so much he wanted to say but didn’t know what the rules of this thing were. More than anything he didn’t want to scare her off again. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, hoping it came out curious and not accusatory.

“I’m covering the show…for CCPN,” she said with a smirk. It took him a second to process her words.

“Are you serious?” He asked, beaming with excitement and his caution momentarily flying out the window.

“Yeah, I started there the end of last year, and I’m taking some classes at CCU so soon I’ll finally be a college graduate.”

“Iris. Are you serious?” He said again. “That’s incredible! You’re really doing it.”

“I guess so,” she said with pride. It looked good on her.

“I always knew you could,” he said without thinking, basking in her. He immediately regretted it.

“Well what about you?” She asked, keeping the conversation flowing. She was always better at that.

“Me? I’m, uh, well I’m actually showing some of my stuff here,” he said with a little bit of embarrassment. It wasn’t much, especially compared to everything she’d been up to.

“Barry! Congratulations!”

Hearing her say his name filled him with joy, more than any art show could ever give him. He could feel himself getting lost in her all over again, not that he ever really found his way out. For a split second it felt like they were right back in that place, where all that mattered, all that would ever matter, was her.

“Hey, Iris, I got you a vodka soda, but I’m pretty sure its unethical for journalists to drink on the job,” the guy with her earlier said as he came back to her side with a drink in each hand.

The illusion shattered and the rest of the room came back. He no longer had her all to himself. The guy was just as tall as Barry, and it made him stand up a little straighter. He walked between them to put his arm possessively around her shoulder again which she didn’t seem to mind.

“Thanks, hon,” she told him, taking the drink. His stomach dropped at that.

“Who’s this?” The guy asked with an attitude.

“Oh, this is Barry,” she said. “Barry, this is Wally. My little brother.”

“Little brother?” He asked, dumbfounded and filled with relief.

“Her one and only,” he said, without moving away from her. “So _you’re_ the infamous Barry, huh?” All the jealousy he felt immediately turned to intimidation. All he could think was, _oh no._

“Okay!” Iris said loudly, removing her brother’s hand from her shoulder. “Wally, why don’t you go get our stuff from the coatcheck,” she said hurriedly, not so subtly signaling for him to scram.

“Yeah, okay,” he said without taking his eyes off him. He felt like he was being cross-examined. “Good to finally meet you, _Barry_.”

“Yeah, um, g-good to meet you, too.” Wally shot a final look at him over his shoulder that made him feel like he was wearing a tie that was too tight.

“Sorry about that. He’s just a little protective.”

“Well, he should be,” he said stuffing his hands back into his pockets.He couldn’t help himself.

She looked at him with those brown eyes he missed like a diver misses air, seeming to be thinking something but deciding not to say it.

“How long is he in town for?”

“Uh, not long. We’re actually going to go see our dad tomorrow,” she said sounding a little unsure.

“Oh well that’s…good?”

She laughed a little.

“Yeah, it is. Really good, actually. He reached out and we’ve been taking it slow but…we’re talking again.”

“Wow. It seems like you have everything you ever wanted.” She shifted her weight as he said it.

He looked at her, standing in front of him in all her glory. Clearly she was better off without him. For as much as that realization hurt he would always be happy she was happy. That could be enough for him.

“You deserve it, Iris.” He couldn’t help the way his voice softened around her name.

She smiled at him in a way that he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.

“Um, well…” she started, clearing her throat. She opened her phone and hit the record button in her memo app. “Can I get a quote before I go?” She asked with a smile.

“Ummm…Please come buy my paintings?” He said with a shrug.

She chuckled at him dismissively and put the phone away. She met his eye with that look again.

“Do you have anything else you want to say? Off the record?”

He thought it over for a second, of how he could really tell her how miserable he was without her, how much he still loved her, still needed her. How no matter how successful he became in his life, no matter how many paintings he sold or how may he didn’t, none of it would ever mean anything without her. And how everyday without her hurt just as bad as the last. But telling her any of that was a selfish fantasy. Even though he knew he might very well never see her again he couldn’t do it. He was never going to get in the way of her happiness again.

“You seem really good, Iris. And I’m happy for you,” he said, needing her to hear how much he genuinely meant it.

“Right,” she said looking down as she tucked a curly strand behind her ear. It was too short to stay put for long. “Well, I should, um, go find Wally. It was nice to see you, Bar—” she stopped short of calling him by the name she gave him and corrected herself. “Barry.”

His heart sank as he plastered on a smile.

“It was nice seeing you, Iris. Take care of yourself.”

He watched her walk away, heels clicking against the concrete floor out of the gallery.

——

Saturday night she and Linda were across the bridge at Mari’s apartment for her roommate’s going away party. It was a lively group of dancers and artists, a few drag queens thrown in for good measure, too. The entire room was lit in cycling colors: blue, pink, purple, red. A disco ball hung from the center of the room, above where a coffee table normally lived, and tinsel covered just about every surface. She sat alone at their kitchen counter, nursing her drink while everyone else was celebrating with ski shots and group polaroids.

“Okay, dude, that is the saddest anyone has ever been while drinking a daiquiri. What is it because you are seriously putting a damper on this party,” Linda asked, taking the pink sequin cowboy hat off her head to fix her hair but leaving the rainbow feather boa draped around her shoulders in place.

“I ran into Barry the other night,” she said bluntly.

“Shit,” Linda said as she dropped into the stool next to hers. She put the hat down on the counter. “How was it?”

“I don’t know,” she answered in a distant voice. “He looked good. He was showing some of his paintings at that gallery opening I was covering. He seemed different… I don’t know.”

Linda didn’t say anything for a while as Iris continued to think about it. The encounter shook her to her core. It was the last place she’d expected to see him. She should’ve read her assignment email more carefully. And why did he have to look so put together and happy, even if he did have a murder scene splattered across his chest. It felt like betrayal that he seemed so normal and unaffected after all this time while she still felt broken. Even a great day with her dad and Wally wasn’t enough to completely shake her out of it.

“How do you feel,” Linda asked.

She stayed silent, fidgeting with the glass in her hand.

“Iris, you are my best friend and I know you better than I know myself so I’m only going to ask you this one time and you better tell me the truth: Are you in love with him?”

She stared off into the distance and her voice was quiet but sure as she answered.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I might be.”

“You know you can call him, right?”

“Barry doesn’t want to see me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Stop,” she said turning to face her with a sudden frustration that was one degree away from tears. “Just stop. We’re both doing so well for ourselves. He’s painting again, I’m finally getting back on track — maybe for the first time in my life….I don’t want us to get in each other’s way; not when we’re both so close to being good.”

“But—”

“Lin, it’s okay. Some people just weren’t meant to be together. A piece of me is probably always going to love him and I’m okay with that. Really. So can we just, _try_ to enjoy this party? Please?”

Linda looked at her again, knowing that Iris wasn’t willing to listen to her anymore.

“Okay.”

The next morning she made her way out to the suburbs to see her father. They were trying Sunday morning pancakes, for the first time in a really long time, at the house. And for the first time in a while it was just going to be the two of them, no Wally to jump in and save the day with his buffer skills. They made it through the first stack happily, she reveled in his skills at the griddle and the ease of their dynamic she remembered from her childhood as the barriers began to fade away. It was turning out to not be nearly as hard as she thought it’d be. But with that ease came the sinking feeling of regret for having stayed away so long.

“Can I ask you something, dad?” She asked, after licking the syrup off her fork much to his amusement.

“Is it how I get my pancakes to be so perfect? Cause, I’m sorry, baby, but that’s just a God-given talent.”

She laughed at the lame joke, glad to be able to hear them again.

“No it’s just….When did you make peace with losing mom?”

He sat back in his chair, stumped by the question.

“You’re not messing around today, are you?”

“We don’t have to, we can go back to breakfast.”

“No, no. We owe this to each other.” He scratched his chin and sighed as he thought. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure that I ever did. I still miss her. Every second of every day.”

“Right, but don’t you think she’d want you to be happy without her. Maybe move on?”

He sighed again.

“The only thing your mother ever wanted was for all of us to be happy. And I know she would never forgive me if she saw how much my missing her let me miss out on you and your brother,” he said with a newfound gravity. She hadn’t meant to spur this but she stayed quiet and listened to what he had to say. “The biggest regret of my life will always be letting the two of you down. I am so sorry for pushing you out, Iris, I want you to hear that. You and Wally are the best things that happened to me and your mother and I ruined that. And I am truly sorry.”

She scooted her chair closer to his to wrap him in an embrace.

“I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, baby girl. I missed you so much,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead before she pulled away. They both sat there wiping tears from their eyes, laughing a little at the emotional weight of the moment. She knew that things would end up okay between them, and, even if it was long overdue, she was nonetheless grateful to have him back.

“You want some more pancakes?” He asked, picking up her plate to take to the kitchen.

“And some more coffee and bacon?”

“You got it,” he said with a laugh. “By the way did you hear that Jacques may be getting the boot?”

“No!” She exclaimed at the piece of gossip concerning her brother’s love life.

“You didn’t hear it from me but apparently there’s trouble in paradise.”

“I can’t believe it, he’s such a sweet boy.”

“Well damn, I can! Wally can’t handle sweet, he needs someone who’s gonna push back.”

“I guess you’re right, but I’ll still be sad to see him go,” she said as he returned with her second round of breakfast. Her stomach was already growling in anticipation.

“Speaking of, your brother mentioned something about you bumping into an old boyfriend the other night? I think he said his name was Barry?”

She halted her fork mid-bite-flightpath.

“I’m gonna kill that kid.”

“So it’s true. Who was he? Do I need to go pay this punk a visit?”

“No, dad,” she said a little exasperated, but a part of her loving her dad’s interest in her life even if it was in the form of overprotectiveness. “Barry’s a really great guy, the best, actually. We just…,” now it was her turn to sigh, “things don’t always get to work out, you know? And that’s just the way it is.”

She put the fork down on the plate and pushed it away.

“Changed your mind about round two?”

“Guess I lost my appetite.”

“Iris, look at me,” he commanded in a paternal tone.

She looked up at her father’s face, a little more worn and gray than when she was twelve but all the same fatherly love and protection remained.

“Can I give you my hard won advice?”

“I’m okay.”

“Iris,” he said in the same, warning dad-voice.

“Sure, Dad,” she said with a sad smile.

“Stop running from the people you love.”

“Dad-” she tried to defend herself.

“I’m serious, Iris. Take it from this old fool: the biggest regret you’ll ever have in life is not letting those special people in. Because one day, sooner than you think, you won’t recognize what your life’s become and all you’ll have left are old ghosts and a lifetime’s worth of wondering.”

“I’m scared, dad,” she said as a tear rolled down her cheek. “What if it doesn’t go right?”

He pulled her close to rest on his shoulder as he kissed the top of her head.

“What if it does?”

——

He heard a knock on the door as he was preparing to leave, keys already in hand, to head over to the gallery to meet up with Malcolm and Cisco. He looked down at his watch, making sure he wasn’t late and that it wasn’t them coming over to find him. He looked out the peephole, prepared to defend his punctuality, and his heart stopped.

“Iris?” He asked as he opened the door, sure that he had to be dreaming or that this was a hallucination induced from painting with the windows closed one too many times.

“Hi, Barry. Can I come in?” She breathed heavily as she waited for his answer.

“I was just about to head out—” he started gesturing to the hall but stopped as he watched her face fall. “Yeah, yeah of course, come in.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you okay? Do you need some water?”

“Um,” she panted, “yeah. Water’d be nice.”

He shut the door behind her and walked over to his sink as she moved to take a seat.

“Why are you so out of breath?” He asked as he filled the glass. These two encounters in the past weekend were the most he’d seen of her. If she wasn’t careful he was going to get used to it. There was no way he could handle that from her.

“I ran here. From the train station,” she said as her breathing steadied. He turned around to see her sitting on his couch, holding the bear on her lap. _Shit,_ he thought. Her expression as she held it was unreadable. It stung to see her so familiar, so close, yet still just beyond his reach. Her words finally registered as he handed her the glass of water.

“Wait what? That’s twenty blocks! Why the hell would you do that?” He said, frustrated by her disregard for her own wellbeing.

She downed half the glass and looked up from the bear at him. She was flushed from running and her hair looked a little crazy, but he was filled with that aching tenderness for her. She looked frantically in his eyes, and it confused him. What could he give her, what did she need?

“Because…” she trailed off like a guilty child and got up from the couch, moving away from him. It was all so confusing. She went over to his easel, looking at the half finished canvas then flipping through his sketchbook resting on the stool.

“Because what?”

She didn’t answer his question as she kept flipping. He watched her stop when she got to the last pages and found all his sketches of her. She brought the page closer to her face to get a better look. If it were anyone else he’d feel embarrassed but he’d already bared his soul to her. He searched her face for an explanation or at the very least some visible reaction but there was no discernible change to her disposition.

“Why are you here, Iris?” He asked again, softer.

She traced her fingers carefully over the lines and curves on the page. To him, she seemed like a ball of nervous energy and completely calm all at the same time. It was unnerving.

“I spent so much time being terrified of failing in every aspect of my life,” she said to herself as she looked at the drawings. “And I realized that I was so scared of failing with us, with you, that I ran away and never really stopped.”

He moved closer to her, trying not to get his hopes up, telling himself that this wasn’t her coming back to him, that she didn’t want this with him, and that she was better off without him. In a second she was going to finish that drink, offer a reasonable explanation as to why she showed up at his door, and then she’d be off carrying on with the rest of her life and he with his. He warned himself that this was a momentary blip. It couldn’t be real. He couldn’t let himself think otherwise.

“Why did you come here?” He asked, standing a foot behind her. He wanted to ask every question he had for her, wanted to demand every piece of information so he would no longer feel so lost in the dark and at least he would have this one light. _She doesn’t want you she doesn’t love you_ , he repeated the mantra in his head.

Against his better judgment a small voice that lived in the back of his mind whispered _, but what if she does?_

She turned to look at him, her eyes filled with a lifetime’s worth of answers in the forms of feelings without names. He could see everything in those eyes. Everything that was, everything that is, everything that could be. And no matter how many times he tried to put that down to paper he knew he would always fail. There wasn’t a chance that he could ever recreate anything about her.

He watched her open her mouth and close it again as she wrapped her arms around her middle

“Because I don’t feel like running anymore,” she said with a shrug.

He swallowed. Searching her face for some signal of confirmation or elaboration, he was terrified of being wrong. He knew that his entire existence was tethered to her, forever, no matter what they were to each other in the practical sense. To him, she would always be everything. 

He watched with caution as she leaned forward into him and kissed him. In that one gentle action he felt his entire world shift. She pulled away an inch to look him in the eyes.

“I love you, Bare.”

He let out his breath mingled with a laugh and tears of relief as he rested his forehead against hers, taking her face, the face that would always do him in, with his hands.

“Does that mean you love me too?” She asked him smiling but he could feel that she was still nervous and needed to hear it too.

He kissed her just as she had done, putting everything he had into her.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for a second,” he said with another kiss. “My Iris.”

“My Bare,” she answered. He went to kiss her again, dying to make up for every stupid second they’d ever managed to spend apart, but she pulled back. “Hey, weren’t you about to go somewhere?”

“There is literally nothing in the universe that could make me leave this apartment right now,” he said pulling her closer against him. “So would you just shut up and kiss me?”

With her arms around his neck she leaned back again to look him square in the eye.

“Don’t think that just because I love you you can tell me what to do,” she warned with tears still on her cheeks.

“Never,” he told her sincerely. And just because he could he told her again, “I love you. So much, Iris.”

“I love you so much, too, Bare. Always.”

——

Lying with him on his couch, with nothing on them but the covers from his bed, she saw he had more flowers covering his arm, stopping just above his wrist. She looked him over carefully, trying to see what all the new ones were: a sunflower, a chrysanthemum, a daffodil, and plenty more she couldn’t identify. He even had a bird perched close to his elbow among the garden.

“These are new,” she remarked as she traced the ink.

“Had to do something while you were gone,” he said sleepily. 

“Still no iris,” she said with a poke.

“I already have an iris,” he said hugging her tighter. She missed his cheesiness. 

She knew there was still so much to talk about…so much to say, but in that moment all she needed was to come home. And there was not a thing in the world she was more certain of than the fact that he was home. She stilled her hand and laid her head to rest in the nook between his shoulder and his neck, kissing every freckle as though reassuring them each that she was back for good.

“I’m not going anywhere again,” she said into his skin.

“I wouldn’t survive it,” he said back nonchalantly, with his forearm thrown over his eyes. She knew he was being serious. The thought scared her. She didn’t think she’d be able to go on without him either. That kind of need for someone else, that codependency, would take some time for her to wrap her head around. But at the end of the day he’d always be hers and she’d always be his, anything that came along with that universal truth was merely an incidental.

She pulled his face down to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’ll always love you, Bare.”

He pulled her closer to him, eyes still closed and on the edge of sleep. She brought her fingers up to trace his eyebrows, hardly touching them but feeling their softness. His face relaxed even more beneath her touch.

“I know you will,” he murmured, taking her hand from his forehead to kiss her palm. She could feel him reassuring her that he believed her and part of the world fell from her shoulders. She knew the next day there would be a longer conversation and she would continue to apologize for hurting him in the process of hurting herself. But for now, with her sleepy boy wrapping his arms around her, they were okay.


	17. Chapter 17

On a warm Thursday night in September Mari, Linda, Cisco, Cindy, Sam, Wally, Barry, and Iris all gathered at Joe’s house, dressed in suits and dresses, to celebrate his daughter’s graduation. There was no ceremony just an email and a diploma that would arrive the following week in the mail. But still, the group popped champagne, and danced around the living room, and Wally picked up enough platters from Iris’ favorite chicken place for the whole group. Barry chatted with Cisco and Wally, who upon a second meeting, decided that he actually really liked Barry. He looked up from his champagne and the conversation that was quickly turning into a dialog between the other two about cars (which he definitely couldn’t contribute to). Joe was on the couch entertaining Sam, dropping not so subtle hints to his own children to get on it with the grandchildren. He looked over at Iris, laughing with her own glass in hand with Cindy, Linda, and Mari across the room. She was light and happy and proud of herself which was the only thing he ever needed. He knew it was something he’d never really get over, that she was his and he was hers. He couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest person on the planet. She looked up from the conversation and caught him starring. She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him from across the room then seamlessly reentered the group without missing a beat. He laughed getting him strange looks from Wally and Cisco who had since moved past cars and were in the middle of discussing Iris’ most recent article about underfunded women’s shelters.

After a night of cake, and having an absurd amount of leftovers forced on them, they got back home to their apartment. They’d only been there for a month and still the weirdest thing about it was how right it felt to be taking that step together. Linda half-heartedly protested but she was happy for them and more than ready to live on her own — especially after having secured her promotion that paid enough for her to buy their apartment. Still, she demanded that she be a part of their house hunt, because, in her words, they owed her at least this for making her put up with all of their bullshit.

It was a small place but it was cozy. Barry picked out most of the furniture and arranged it but Iris picked out the accents (comfy pillows, lots of blankets, and pictures everywhere). They had originally planned to merge their libraries, finding that they had a number of the same books, but then they couldn’t decide whose copy to keep and whose to get rid of and, really, you can never have too many books in the house.

She dropped her keys into the ceramic dish on the table and looked through the stack of mail. He walked over to the radio to turn on some quiet music; with Barry around it seemed like there was always music in the house.

They met back at the couch, still wearing their nice clothes from dinner. He sat down first and pulled her with him, bringing her legs to rest in his lap and taking off her heels for her before loosening his own necktie. Wrapped around each other like this after a long day, listening to soft songs play out over the radio, had become part of their routine.

He brought a gentle hand to her face and placed a warm kiss to her forehead, as he so often did.

“Do you know how proud of you I am?” He asked, not in a patronizing way, but needing her to hear it. She did all of this, for herself, like he always knew she could. He looked at her, a little worn out from all the excitement of the day, with nothing but the utmost respect, awe, and, of course, love. He leaned down again and kissed both of her heavy eyelids and her cheekbones. She was the most precious thing in the world to him.

“Marry me,” she said in a sleepy voice.

“What?” He asked, sure he didn’t hear her right.

“Marry me,” she repeated again, this time a little slower. She sat up a little straighter to look at him, with the cutest dumbstruck expression on his face. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you, Bare. All I ever want is to come home to you and talk to you about everything and laugh with you and make fun of you and love you. You are…everything to me and I never want to be without you again. So would you just…marry me? Please?” She chewed her bottom lip nervously, as if she truly thought he might say no.

He took her hands in his, running his thumbs along her knuckles.

“You’ve always been it for me, Iris,” he said with a half smile.

“Is that a yes?”

“When it comes to you the only answer for me, forever, is yes,” he said. He leaned in to kiss her but soon broke it to her surprise.

“And if you had been patient for another two seconds,” he shifted to reach into his back pocket and pulled out a ring box. He pushed the coffee table table away and got down on one knee in front of her. Iris clasped her hands to her mouth at the sight and he could already feel tears coming to his eyes (he owed Cindy twenty bucks).

She could see the way his hands trembled as he took the ring out of the box and impossibly was filled with even more love for him. He looked down at it as he started to speak,

“I thought about taking you to the beach to ask. Or covering the apartment in irises. Then I got the idea to ask you at dinner tonight with everyone we love around. But I don’t know. None of that felt right.” He looked up from the ring at her beautifully confused face, trying desperately to catch up to him. “I know you just proposed to me but would you mind if I gave it a try?”

She shook her head no, still too stunned to speak.

“Okay,” he said with a quiet, nervous laugh. Suddenly he knew exactly how she felt not two minutes ago.

“I’ve always felt tongue tied around you ever since I first saw you…the most beautiful woman I’d ever in my life, sitting at my bar, what feels like a million years ago…. But here it goes: I know that one day we’re both gonna die–”

“Bare what?”

“Hey, I didn’t interrupt you while you were proposing to me! So just, shhh. And listen. It gets better, I promise. Where was I? Oh, right. I know that one day the sun is gonna explode, and the ocean is gonna dry up, and all of this — everything we know, everything in existence — is just gonna be some distant memory.” He paused to look at her, the love of his life, watching him in anticipation and his nerves melted away.

“But knowing that hasn’t stopped me once from thinking about us as a forever. And maybe our forever is just you and me, living in the moment for every moment I’m lucky enough to get. Because I know that my forever begins and ends with you.”

She gave him a smile as happy tears rolled down her face and he realized that he was crying, again, too (and now he owed Cisco fifty bucks).

“So, Iris…my beautiful, smart…crazy, loud,” he continued over her tearful laughter, “wonderful, amazing Iris, what I’m trying to say is, I know that everything is finite but I want to spend forever with you.”

“Holy shit,” she said quietly.

“Iris West, will you marry me?”

“How did you say it, ‘my only answer for you will always be yes’?” She smiled brightly at him and he placed the simple ring on her finger. She got down on her knees with him and kissed him before pulling back.

“But just so you know,” she said in a louder voice, her eyes still wet, “I am going to kick your ass on our vows.” She stuck a finger in his chest as she said it.

“Better start working on them, Ace.”

They sat back on their couch, becoming tangled in each other again. Tomorrow they’d have to make calls to all their family and friends to share the news. Tomorrow they’d begin to put things in motion and make all the plans for the start of the rest of their lives.

But, for now, they simply sat together listening to the music and breathing in the moment, their moment, hoping it might last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading this frfr. I literally worked on it for almost a year and it is near and dear to my heart. that being said if you have shit to say about wrong little details like how Barry's birthday isn't in the summer I do NOT want to hear it. besos bitches xoxo


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